The Buu Incident
by Droseralex
Summary: An ancient terror manages to survive his untimely annihilation, but it comes at a cost. Strewn across realities, the amnesiac and troublesome Majin awakens in a new world full of strange and strong people who seem to be hell-bent on keeping him from his sweets and fun. Alternate/divergent timeline. Rating might have to go to M later for obvious reasons.
1. Terror Unleashed

**-The Buu Incident-**

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE: TERROR UNLEASHED**

* * *

For a brief moment, the universes spawning across multiple realities aligned, down to their very atoms.

It was an improbable and unlikely fluke not seen in eons. Such events were usually harmless in nature, for the mighty walls within the veil prevented the eldritch horrors living inside of it—_and_ those from beyond—from passing through. Even when those threats somehow persisted, the great deities overseeing it all would often step in to ensure balance reigned supreme.

Unfortunately, things would unfold differently today.

For the briefest of moments, the multiversal scale tilted. In that instant, all semblance of order and equilibrium was lost, allowing chaos to rule above all else.

Meanwhile, in one of the parallel worlds, two titans clashed in their final battle, their very universe at stake. The heavens rumbled and rattled with every world-shattering strike. A surge of rosy and azure energy collided—

—and the fibers weaving the two worlds cracked and shuddered, coming apart under the monumental and incomprehensible forces bearing down upon them. The adage_ 'Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.' _couldn't have been more fitting.

As the swell of unstable energy reached its zenith, a burst of raw and infinitely destructive force bled through the forming cracks, shining primordial light into the stygian void for the first time in untold millennia. The wound then spread forth through time and space unimpeded, the anomalous fissures growing and seeping into everything like a tumorous growth.

By the time the great deities had shifted their burning gaze towards the unforeseen incident in their dominion, small and seemingly inert fragments of pink flesh managed to slip through one of the rifts, escaping certain oblivion by the smallest of margins.

The deities, wholly aware of the terror about to befall those outside their reach, did their best to try and stifle the threat with impunity before the universal wounds scarred over. Their attempts were in vain, however, for their great power faltered upon breaching past the void. Attempts to rouse the guardians at the other side were met with absolute silence.

Finding themselves out of time and unable to destroy the primordial abomination, they instead focused on a final, vehement attempt to scramble and scatter its arcane essence through the stars while they still had the ability to do so. Partially successful, they diverted what remained of their limited esoteric energies into bestowing a small blessing upon the worlds beyond.

As they reflected upon their fateful actions, the remaining fractures shuttered, the link between the two universes permanently severed. Would the blessing manifest within one worthy and pure enough to make a difference?

Had they done enough to save those beyond, or at least done enough to give them a fighting chance?

Forever out of sight and reach, they would never get to find out.

* * *

On this fateful day, life across Japan—_and the world itself_—would be changed forever.

* * *

**[ Musutafu, Japan ]**

The skies above the lively city of Musutafu darkened, much faster than it was typical for an afternoon thunderstorm. Most citizens paid no mind to the occurrence, for there were crazier things they had witnessed before.

When men could easily change the weather with a mere punch, it made such events seem downright trivial and meaningless.

As the city carried on, a turbid mass of swirling darkness forced itself into being through the firmament. The ominous and deadly cyclonic anomaly groaned and pulsated with a life of its own, its core broadening as it fought to remain cohesive through impossible realities and ravaged timelines. Within its raging maw, flashes of crimson lightning illuminated the remnants of burning worlds and desolate, broken universes.

Separated from the fundamental energies that gave it form, the passage between worlds buckled into itself with the equivalent energy of a thermonuclear weapon. From its very center, a burning mass erupted at inconceivable speeds.

When the heavenly rumble reached the streets below, the startled citizens finally paused to stare at the commotion. Their eyes widened in fear as they became painfully aware of the dispersing vortex in the sky, and even more so at the roaring fireball heading their way. Panicking as they attempted to flee, numerous calls flooded the Hero Network as the object loomed closer and closer to the tallest skyscrapers.

Rivulets of what remained of the sizzling tissue burned to ash, the discombobulated splotch struggling to maintain any semblance of sentience or physical attributes as it dealt with the after-effects of the unexpected dimensional transition and foul tampering of divine origin.

Out of control, it found itself gutting the side of a skyscraper, and then it punched cleanly through three more buildings before it embedded itself deep into the streets below. The force of the impact unleashed a tremendous shockwave that pulverized a veritable portion of the neighborhood with impunity. Vehicles were sent tumbling into heaps of scrap, utility poles warped away, and storefronts exploded inwards.

As the smoke and dust clouds settled, the distressed screams of panic and pain from those who failed to make it to safety began to echo through the wrecked city block, their cries muffled by blaring alarms and roaring fires raging out of control.

Not too far in the distance, the frantic sirens of the Police Force and emergency vehicles became audible.

* * *

Regaining some of its limited mental capacity, the disfigured, charred blob began to whine and twitch erratically within its burning, earthly confines, bubbling aggressively as it fought to regain most of its lost biomass. Its form straightened, slowly standing upright until it sprouted a pair of pudgy legs. A set of equally robust arms followed, and eventually, a rounded head formed as its body regained a healthy rosy tinge. Then, two rather confused and beady eyes opened, settling into an upwardly slanted, squinty shape.

"Buu," The blob finally uttered as it...no, **_he_** became self-aware once more, steam billowing out of the newly formed holes around his head, shoulders, and chest. With a _pop, _an antenna emerged out at the very top of his head. His rimmed vest, boots, cape, and pants materialized next as he completed his physical manifestation.

Buu let out a whoop of excitement upon feeling whole again!

...

The wave of fervor soon faded. No, he wasn't whole. He still felt wrong, woozy, light. Something was amiss in his body. Thoughts and memories that should have been there simply weren't. An old, familiar connection felt broken and it made him feel hollow and frustrated.

It also made him...

"So hungry," He remarked as he patted his gut, pressing the meager supply of energy available beneath his body to rise over the deep crater and explore his surroundings. Maybe eating some food would make him feel better.

Placing a thumb and finger upon his plump chin to help him think, he eyed the neighborhood, looking for any signs of familiarity. Buu found that no matter how hard he tried to remember, he had no clear memories of this place. The city looked so shiny and new, much more advanced than those he encountered the last time he awakened from his slumber.

Then again, everything felt somewhat familiar as if he had been in a place like this before. These big conflicting thoughts made Buu's head hurt, so he let his mind wander to his surroundings again. Everything around him was in shambles, and there were so many loud noises and screams that made his sensitive ears ache.

It didn't matter. _He was hungry._

With that, the Majin's quest for sustenance and fun started...

...and for others, a nightmare just began.

* * *

Within minutes of the incident, a sizable assemblage of emergency and law enforcement personnel had zeroed in on the scene, preparing to both engage an unknown attacker and render assistance to the wounded and trapped. Firetrucks were already dousing the flames trying to grow out of control in buildings and wrecked vehicles while the Police Force cordoned off a large section of the city blocks nearby. Countless people had already flocked to get a peek at the curious and rather destructive incident.

The diesel engines of the heavily armored First Response Unit personnel carriers growled deeply as they turned into the street at full speed, their thick tires screeching to a halt a few hundred feet away from the wreckage. Reinforced doors at their very back slammed down on the asphalt, and two dozen of Japan's elite officers marched out of them, prepared to take control of the developing crisis until the Pro Heroes arrived.

"Go, go, go! Non-lethal rounds only unless I say otherwise!" The commander barked. Just like his men, he was covered from head to toe in intricate body armor that resembled SWAT gear. Over his shoulder, he carried a large caliber rifle and a non-lethal riot shotgun. He holstered his rifle to brandish the shotgun for the moment.

His subordinates shouted an agreement as a single unit and spread out in groups of three, switching their choice of weapon as ordered while they cautiously swept through the wreckage. Behind them, EMS technicians were moving forward as well, all protected by a wall of riot shields wielded by the Police Force. They did their best to hurriedly pull out the wounded as fast as they could, ready to retreat at once if the situation escalated.

Ground zero wasn't a pretty sight. As the special forces made their way through the ever-worsening chaos, it was all but certain casualties were going to be plentiful. Storefronts were gone, cars mangled to hell, and the road itself was reshaped into an uphill cliff that ended in an ominous-looking crater that was still smoking and glowing.

When they approached the sloping, superheated surface, the forward teams froze. Out of sight, something began to rustle and shift. Then, what sounded like an old a steam train whistle went off. The commander switched to hand gestures, ordering weapons to go hot. Behind him, the groups merged into a single rank.

"So hungry_," _A child-like voice remarked from beyond.

Everyone stiffened as they watched something_ float up_ from the crater.

Their body was considerably bloated and stumpy. They wore odd, white baggy trousers and a black gold-laced vest, with golden boots and gloves to match. A purple cape was haphazardly tied around their neck, flowing almost down to their feet. Around their large waist, they wore a dark belt, ending in a golden buckle with the letter M artfully engraved at its base. Their mostly humanoid features ended there, as they had some sort of ponytail-like antennae on their head, surrounded by multiple vent-like openings that also ran down their arms. Instead of ears, they had two cup-like protuberances with an opening at their base. Every inch of their skin had the texture and look of bright, pink bubblegum.

In a different scenario, their appearance would have been considered comical, just like some of the weird Mutant-type Quirks around. However, the absolute carnage around them and the palpable sense of danger oozing out of the stranger stopped any such thought from coming forth.

The man—or what they at least assumed to be a man based on their clothing, voice, and physical attributes—then continued to float upwards until he paused to regard his surroundings with curiosity, apparently oblivious to their presence as he happily hummed to himself.

_'He has a Mutant-type Quirk, so how's he able to fly? That shouldn't be possible.'_ The commander thought as he swallowed the lump trying to form in his throat. He moved forward, his shotgun aimed at center-mass, and ready to pull the trigger if the villain twitched wrong. "You there! This is Isao Tanaka, commander of First Response Unit Delta. You are hereby placed under arrest for violating the Public Use of Quirks mandate, causing Level Two Property Damage, and recklessly endangering or harming civilians through Quirk usage. Hands up where we can see them, now!"

Taken by surprise, Buu froze mid-hum, swiveling slowly on the spot until his eyes finally settled upon the armed officers. His unimpressed gaze then focused on the large group of flashing emergency vehicles behind them before shifting back down to them.

Without saying a word, the villain complied and dropped gently onto the ravaged street with a hefty _thump. _It was only then that they were able to finally grasp just how massive he was; he towered a good two to three feet over everyone present. Even his circumference was intimidating, easily dwarfing almost four men width-wise as if he was a freakishly ginormous Sumo wrestler. Or a terribly bloated Fat Gum, if that was possible.

Leather gloves creaked as more than a few fingers tightened around their respective triggers.

Smirking, Buu resumed his jovial humming as he scrutinized every single man standing before him, showing little to no regard for the twenty-plus shotguns locked onto his form or the danger the elite teams posed.

"I said hands up!" Isao shouted as he pumped his shotgun threateningly, taking a valiant step forward. He wouldn't let a worthless thug intimidate him—

—the villain's eyes then locked onto his own, his merry humming halting. The air seemed to be drawn out of Isao's lungs as it grew heavier around his body. His training and sense of duty urged him to disregard his wavering resolve and move forward to subdue the threat. However, deep down in his mind, the voice of reason and self-preservation suddenly yelled at him to back off and retreat...

_To r__un. _Why did he feel like this?

"What the hell is he?" One of the men voiced the unspoken question most did not wish to ask.

Huh, they were feeling the uneasiness as well. That wasn't reassuring. Sweat began to drip down Isao's helmeted face, his trigger finger now trembling slightly. The damn villain showed no signs of submission, concern, or fear even when the odds were severely stacked against him.

So be it. Stomping down on the surging dread, he gritted his teeth as he willed himself to take one more step. "Surrender now, villain! Last warning." He growled out with finality, the threat of impending violence hanging heavy in the air as the shotgun was moved closer to the pink giant's chest.

More shotguns were cocked as they closed the gap further. They raised their crosshairs to actively target the massive man's torso, feeling empowered by their superior's show of gutsy assertiveness.

"You want to play with Buu?" The Majin asked candidly, his head tilted with inquisitiveness as he stared right at the weapon's barrels.

To think such a seemingly innocuous statement could instill so much unease in a man's heart.

As expected, there was no response from the special forces, and they refused to back down. The men on the outer edges of the line moved to flank the villain.

Buu grew impatient. Maybe they wanted him to start the game. He moved towards them—

And all hell broke loose.

"Fire! Open fire!" Isao shouted as he depressed the trigger. The rest simply followed their survival instincts and unloaded their weapons upon the looming villain. A hail of deafening non-lethal rounds pummeled his flesh relentlessly as every operative pumped shell after shell into his broad torso until their weapons ran dry.

Once the gunsmoke began to thin out, the group took a cautious step forward. Quirk suppressing bindings were procured as they prepared to shackle the downed villain—

—but there was one problem with that plan; the villain wasn't down. As a matter of fact, he was still standing on the same spot, with both of his pudgy arms resting proudly on his waist, boastful of his achievement. Every single rubber bullet had impacted him head-on, the powerful kinetic projectiles simply sinking slightly into his gut, setting off miniature ripples around the concave 'wounds' that still danced and wavered around as if he was made out of pure Jell-O.

Buu retained his bemused smirk, displaying no outward signs of pain or injury. He started to giggle; the loud boomsticks had tickled his belly quite a bit. They _did _want to play. Maybe his hunger could wait a bit.

"Okay! Buu play too!" He squealed out with the excitement more likely to be found in a five-year-old than an 8-foot giant, sticking a meaty thumb in his mouth.

Eyebrows were raised behind riot helmets. Undeterred by the bizarre villain's behavior, the men didn't waste any time loading more rounds into their shotguns—

"Catch!" Buu cheered before blowing on his thumb, his cheeks puffing up like balloons.

Isao stiffened as the vague memories of a decades-old incident resurfaced in his mind. His world shifted into slow motion as his honed instincts kicked in, the evasive maneuvers taking place before he could even _think _about performing them or think about warning his men. By the time he was able to voice a warning, it was already too late.

He helplessly watched how in that half-second, every single indentation in the pink villain's gum-like flesh suddenly popped back to its original form. With that simple action, the countless rubber bullets buried in his body were sent whence they came, their momentum multiplied beyond measure.

It was a blessing his team was trained to deal with extraordinarily aggressive and fast-moving Quirk users, and it was only thanks to that skill that a portion of his men was able to dodge the unexpected barrage mostly unscathed. Mostly. The ones that saw him dashing to safety and followed him avoided the worst of it. Those that were too slow to react weren't so lucky, and they were sent flying back as a multitude of overpowered rubber bullets smashed into their body armor with a loud and cringe-inducing _crunch._

The villain gazed his way, his smile playful and wicked. Isao felt that strange, dreary pressure upon his body again, and nary a moment later, he was forced to dodge once more as a barrage of what once were harmless bullets was redirected his way—

—but this time, he was too damn slow. One bullet grazed his rib shield, outright cleaving off a portion of his vest and kicking the air out of his lungs. Another smashed into his shoulder plating, and the composite armor burst to pieces before the broken rubber buried itself into his clavicle. The ridiculous force behind the projectiles threw him back to crash onto the road like a sack of shit.

"Damn it," He wheezed as he tried to get up, but the pain shooting down his arm, rib, and neck made him fall back. He couldn't move his left arm anymore!

It was only then that he heard the cacophony of raw screams from his men. Spurred into action, he stubbornly climbed to his knees. As he did, he got his first look at the carnage the villain had wrought. His heart dropped.

Five were curled up and writhing in misery, a well-placed bullet shattering the reinforced fiberglass faceplate in their helmets, their screams descending into sobbing as they cradled their bloody, broken faces. Ten more were laid out flat and appeared to be out of action, either squirming in pain or downright unconscious. One was able to get back up, but his leg was twisted unnaturally at his knee joint.

It was hard to believe all this havoc had been caused by _non-lethal rubber bullets_. Jesus...

Isao shook his head as he came to his senses, seeing red as he stood up. Unexpectedly, the bastard didn't make a run for it. Most would have if they knew what was coming next, but not this freak. Instead, he simply stood there with a shit-eating grin as wide as his face as he glanced at his violent handiwork. He was _proud _of it!

He seethed. The risk for further collateral damage and casualties was too high. Over half of his unit was wiped out already. He had to be dealt with, _now!_

"Enough of this bullshit." Isao spat out venomously. "If you had a death wish, it's been granted!" With his functional arm, he cast the riot shotgun aside to bring up his assault rifle. "Howa's up! Lethal force authorized, light him up!" He shouted, disabling the weapon's safety without a second thought as he backstepped from the villain.

The Howa Type 89 Assault Rifle was a powerful weapon, and one of the reasons the First Response Units were universally respected and feared by perps and villains alike throughout Japan. Its 5.56x45mm cartridge bullets with steel penetrators guaranteed their payload would take down anything but the most powerful or well-armored Quirk users.

Isao was certain this fiend wasn't well-armored. He had flexible, rubbery skin; something that could be easily negated with some lead.

Aiming at his extremities and center mass, the able-bodied F.R.U. teams returned fire as one, regaining some of their professional decorum in the process. The villain's body shuddered with each strike, and Isao's theory was proven right when he witnessed the 5.56mm rounds wrecking through his elasticity Quirk, carving a gruesome and deadly path through the freak. Pink chunks splattered everywhere as he let out warbled cries of anguish, his body disappearing in the building haze of gunsmoke and atomized tissue.

"Enough! Hold your fire." He barked once the villain's cries went silent, feeling certain the job had been done. Heeding his command, his men halted their firing. No one moved for a good twenty seconds as they tried to peer through the cloud of thick, gray gunpowder and bullet-shredded road. Upon seeing their commander's shoulders slacken in relief, the others mirrored him.

It was over.

As the remainders of the smoke cleared, they prepared themselves for the gory sight—

—but instead, a collective chill ran down their spines.

There he was, his clothes, chest, and extremities riddled with dozens of see-through holes as if he had been turned into Swiss cheese. A stray bullet mangled his jaw, and one nicked his throat, producing grody, open wounds. His legs were so damaged there was no possible way for them to hold his colossal weight, yet somehow, he still managed to remain upright, his upper body unsteady and teetering back and forth.

Isao could see no muscle or bone through the gaps _or _seeping blood for that matter. Was this thing some sort of genetic experiment or a machine?

Buu's eyes snapped open as he straightened himself.

"T-there's no way..." Isao muttered incredulously as he took a few steps back, his weapon hanging loosely over his shoulder. A few others echoed his concerns as they slowly retreated from the _monster, _his mangled appearance more akin to a ravaged ghoul.

"You no playing nice. You try hurt Buu! You all bad, bad man!_" _Buu cried out, indignantly stomping his boots on the ground as his mouth twisted into a disgruntled scowl. The asphalt beneath his foot cracked apart, the force being imparted upon it sending a widening fissure through the brittle street, making the men stumble and dart for stable ground.

With a puff of his cheeks, a wave of liquefied, rosy fluids danced around his open wounds, sealing every bullet hole in a matter of seconds as if the damage to his body _or _clothing had never happened. His eyes opened further, and two tiny, beady pupils peeked through briefly as a feisty smile stretched his thin mouth. _"_Now Buu _**hurt** **you**!"_

The malignant pressure trying to suffocate them thickened, sinking into their very pores until it became unbearable. _Oh, God._

With his knees threatening to buckle, Isao stumbled backward, his underlings mimicking his actions instantly as they felt the unit's nerves and morale crack. There was no doubt in his mind they could all feel the same sense of impending _doom _bearing down upon them now.

He turned on the communicator dangling from his armor's chest pocket, his speech shaky and uneven. "_Everyone_ retreat now! Focus on suppressive fire—"

A fast-moving pink and golden blur ended his broadcast abruptly. Before he could process what had happened, he was backhanded across the street and right into the glass storefront of a building. Body armor rendered worthless, pain spread like hot fire across his head and spine as he tumbled to a stop, his lower back buckling as it struck a solid barrier. The awful sound of bones snapping throughout his body was the least of his worries as he heard his team members shout in concern for his safety, and then in fear for their own.

Isao turned his head towards the sound of multiple Type 89s going off, the firing patterns erratic. He couldn't tell if they were putting up a desperate last stand or if they were retreating as he commanded. He tried to get up, tried to do something—anything— to help, but his body would not move. _Broken spine, _he guessed grimly. He couldn't even speak.

As another wave of despaired screams reached his ears, his eyes grew heavy. Mind-numbing pain quickly turned into an uncomfortable tingling sensation, and soon enough, everything went dark.

In less than a minute, the rest of the First Response Unit used up most of their ordnance reserves. Spent shells continued to rain down upon the broken road as they retreated from the advancing villain. Even with the constant barrage of hot lead serving as suppressive fire, his advance did not falter in the slightest. If anything, it appeared as if he was healing faster by the second!

Moments later, five more men had been taken out with terrifying ease.

As two limp bodies careened through the air, the villain's childish, carefree laugh resonated through the neighborhood.

One of the men downed earlier managed to get back on his feet. He gawked at the unfolding massacre, his mind in tatters. Screaming in a vengeful frenzy, he charged at the pink giant with an oversized combat knife.

The amused Majin just stood there, allowing the sharp blade to plunge into his gut multiple times. It hurt a little bit, but not enough to merit imminent action. "You very weak," He jeered, jabbing a finger on the man's chest armor to provoke him further.

Infuriated beyond relief, the stabbing became more frenetic. The puny man then began to holler curses, and his fury seemed to intensify when he saw the wounds begin to heal much faster than he could inflict them. Snarling, he withdrew a small service pistol out of his leg holster, unloading every single round into the villain's head—

Or at least that's what he intended to do. A massive golden glove moved—much faster than he could comprehend—to cover the handgun's barrel, giving it a firm squeeze even as he kept feathering the trigger. The sound of warped steel greeted his ears, and just like that, his last resort was rendered useless.

Buu grabbed the disheartened man by his vest, lifting him a good three feet to meet face-to-face. He didn't seem to enjoy being hefted like a child, and he spat at the Majin defiantly, swinging the combat knife wildly until it was snatched away from his grasp.

"Why the hell won't you die, you fat piece of goddamn sh—"

And just like that, Buu's snickering fizzled away, his face darkening when the wad of spit struck his cheek. Coupled with the brash verbal abuse, it was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Frowning, the Majin flicked the mean man hard on the forehead—

—and the top half of his helmet disappeared in an explosive cloud of crimson.

Buu gaped. "Oops. If Buu hit too hard you break," He noted disappointedly as the man flopped lifelessly to the ground, his gloves now stained red. He'd have to be more careful if he wanted them to last longer whenever he played with them.

A despondent wail caught his attention, just as he felt another surge of hot metal piercing his body. Not too far in the distance, a mournful red-haired man emptied the last six bullets in his magazine, striking Buu a few times in the head and chest. The man wore the same tactical uniform as the others but he had discarded his helmet, apparently feeling as bold as the puny man Buu had just broken.

When they cheated and used guns, Buu didn't feel like being nice to them.

He smirked, and his body blurred into motion.

* * *

Back at the main rallying point for all of the emergency personnel, the mood was uneasy and tense. When gunshots began to ring out, the Police Force ordered the rescue teams to retreat as they took defensive positions behind the heavily armored First Response Unit carriers. Service weapons were drawn, and riot shields were held at the ready.

The constant report of rifles going off in the distance worsened, the muzzle rattle growing louder and nearer. After some time, the skirmish appeared to die down to nothing. It was then that everyone jumped when their radios went off with a wideband broadcast.

_"Evacuate the damn neighborhood while you still can! He's taken almost everyone out! Oh God, he just killed Hirano!"_ A pause filled briefly with gunshots. _"N-no, get away from me!" _A terrified scream ended the transmission.

As if on cue, a faint scream was heard. The sound increased in pitch and intensity until a flailing body smashed right into an ambulance's windshield. Instantly, everything descended into chaos. Those close to their service vehicles fled in them, while the others simply ran. The Police Force officers holding the riot shields broke their line upon sighting the pink villain, and they fled carrying as many of the wounded as they could.

* * *

"Woohoo, Buu wins!" The Majin cheered, waving his flabby arms in satisfaction as he watched the last silhouettes retreat into the safety of the streets beyond. As they did, one of the men shot a large canister at his feet, and it detonated into a cloud of obnoxious fumes that blocked his sight.

He was somewhat disappointed to see they didn't want to play with him anymore. Was it because he broke a few of them? They were so weak! Maybe that's why they needed to use guns to play with him.

Before he decided to pursue them, a peculiar scent caught his attention the other way. It was pleasant and sweet, making his belly let out a ferocious growl. Following the delicious aroma, he soon found himself facing a building with a very colorful sign indicating it was a bakery. Its glass front was still mostly intact, and beyond it, there were dozens of pastries of all sizes and flavors illuminated by spotlights.

Cakes, donuts, _everything._

"Yum yum! Buu wants!_" _Practically drooling, the Majin patted his rotund gut as he plowed through the glass window, letting it collapse against his body as he neared his target.

So many choices! Leaning over the heavenly desserts, Buu—

"—Not so fast, you punk!" Someone called out from the street, the gritty male voice sounding highly distorted as if he had spoken through a helmet. "Come out and surrender peacefully and you will not be harmed."

"You leave Buu alone! Buu hungry!" The Majin yelled back without sparing much of a glance at the man speaking, frantically waving his arms as he ripped away the display window to reach the baked goods within.

"You asked for it, pal!" _Thump-thump-thump._

Every display case in the bakery exploded into a cloud of shrapnel, sugar, and atomized flour as they were peppered by relentless machinegun-like projectiles. Buu's squinty eyes twitched sporadically, cracking wide open in shock as he stared at the heart-wrenching devastation unfolding before him. Pieces of glass and debris bounced harmlessly against his gut and face as he stared, aghast at the unraveling travesty.

Nothing remained of the tasty food! It was all gone!

Balling his fists, Buu let out a frustrated, ear-splitting wail as he spun around to face the ones responsible for this._"_You take Buu food!" He exclaimed in a shrill tone, a pudgy arm pointed accusingly at the bakery's remains.

Three men stood a good distance from him across the street. The first was a tall and extremely muscular man with spiky white hair. He had a sharp, square jaw and a thick, bright yellow headband with stripes. Around his wrists and waist, he had large metal guards and a buckle with the same pattern. Most of his torso was exposed through his cardigan. He looked strong and grouchy, his mouth set into a long, downward scowl.

The second man was rather thin and springy with short brown hair, wearing an annoying bright yellow honeycombed bodysuit that covered most of his body, cutting off at his arms below the elbows and right below the kneecaps. Covering both hands and feet he wore a large set of gloves and boots with many pieces of shiny lenses. Over his chest, he had a logo that displayed a blazing sun and a zig-zag sunray pattern. His eyes were covered by some sort of mask and face paint. He looked weak, out of breath, and worried.

Gaining most of Buu's attention and anger was the man who stood ahead of the other two. He had long, pale mint-green hair and a white face mask with four holes that resembled gun muzzles. Just like the first, he exposed most of his toned body through an open gray bodysuit that partially covered his arms too. Over his chest, he wore some sort of open body armor.

What stood out the most to Buu were the two revolver-type bracers wrapped around his wrists, aimed directly towards him_. _They were still smoking from recent use.

He gasped. "Gun-man ruin food!" The Majin denounced in a piercing tone, a gloved finger pointed at the man briefly, then at the bakery's general direction to emphasize his conclusion. Small rivulets of steam spewed out of his head vents.

"That I did, villain." The stranger replied cooly, appearing rather unconcerned with the infuriated behemoth across from him.

"What are ya going to do about it, gumball?" Behind gun-man, the other muscular stranger taunted, smashing both of his meaty fists together with a resounding _thump_ as if to challenge him.

Buu's gloves creaked as he balled his fists tighter, his pink cheeks taking a red tinge. He was hungry and mad! So so mad! He pointed towards the gun-wielding stranger again. _"_**BUU WILL HURT YOU!"**

* * *

**Hero Network Police Force Database **

[ PRELIMINARY INCIDENT BULLETIN B-01]  
_-LIVE UPDATES ONGOING, REPORTING FROM SCENE-_

**[** Suspect/Villain: DATA UNAVAILABLE. Refer to **U****pdate 03** for potential name **]**

**HEIGHT:** 7-8'(ESTIMATE)  
**WEIGHT:** 350-400lbs (ESTIMATE)  
**RACE:** UNKNOWN  
**SEX:** MALE  
**EYE COLOR:** UNKNOWN  
**SKIN TONE:** PINK(MUTANT-TYPE QUIRK)

**APPEARANCE:  
**WHITE BAGGY PANTS, GOLDEN BUCKLE WITH STYLISED "M" EMBLAZONED AT BASE. BLACK OPEN VEST WITH ELABORATE GOLDEN TRIM. LARGE YELLOW GLOVES AND BOOTS. PURPLE CAPE. ANTENNA AT TOP OF SKULL, CUP-LIKE OPENINGS FOR EARS. VENT-LIKE CREVICES ON HEAD, CHEST, AND ARMS. BRIGHT BUBBLEGUM-LIKE PINK SKIN.

**REPORT:**  
First encountered in Downtown Musutafu, the suspect appears to have fallen from an unknown location thousands of feet above the city, producing significant damage as he crashed into Hason street. Four buildings suffered moderate structural damage, with most of the severe damage focused within the impact crater. Little is known about the suspect. His body is massive, easily dwarfing most Pro Heroes' body mass, perhaps excluding Fat Gum.

Mutant-type Quirk noted. Emitter-type Quirk noted.

**Addendum**: citizens and officers injured on-site. Rescues underway. Ensure civilians remain four blocks away from the scene!

**[ UPDATES ]**

**Update 01:**

Police Force observed attempts by First Response Unit to subdue subject via non-lethal means have failed. The suspect appears aggressive and-**[connection to network lost]**

**Update 02:  
**SEVERE FRU CASUALTIES REPORTED. FRU TEAMS HAVE BEEN TAKEN DOWN OR FLED SCENE.

**Update 03:  
**Rescued members of the First Response Unit have reported the suspect referred to himself as "Buu"(?). Further research in the Police Force database for "Buu" has proven unsuccessful with such an alias.

**Update 04:  
** THREE CAPABLE PRO HEROES ON SCENE. SUBJECT SHOULD BE SUBDUED SHORTLY. FOLLOWING UPDATES ON NEXT BULLETIN.

**[ CURRENT THREAT LEVEL: D ]**  
ONLY PRO HERO ENGAGEMENT RECOMMENDED! FIRST RESPONSE UNITS INEFFECTIVE!  
*REQUEST FOR FURTHER ASSISTANCE AND THREAT UPGRADE FROM HERO NETWORK MIGHT BE REQUIRED.*

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**A/N:**

Hello everyone! I've had the ideas for this story stuck in my head for a good while. This was originally a one-shot, but seeing others enjoying it as much as I did, I decided to make it a full story. I'm not sure where it's headed, but things might not end well for our heroes _or_ villains. I want to explore how our heroes and villains would deal with such a terrible threat, not only mentally, but as a society. I want to push them in every way and see what they can achieve when they're pushed to the brink.

Feel free to leave a review! I hope you've enjoyed it so far.

**Note:** All chapters are being rewritten. Things have gotten rougher and grimier, and things might lead to an M rating sooner than expected. I had a specific mood I wanted to set up in this story and I wasn't able to capture in the first drafts, but it's now heading in the right way. Rewriting in progress through May-June 2020.


	2. Victory Disease

**-The Buu Incident-**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO: VICTORY DISEASE**

* * *

"Next time you ain't gonna be this lucky, you little punk. Get in, _now._" He ordered gruffly, shoving a rather bruised and dazed thug into the back of an oversized Police Force truck.

Yet another wannabe hoodlum thinking a shot of Trigger would make them invincible. Hah, as if! Unfortunately for the desperate bastard, he had bought a phony, cheap imitation of the black market drug, and his little plan had backfired _big time._

In his drug-spurned bout of brazen overconfidence, he had dared to try and rob Death Arm's favorite convenience store. It was bad enough that the idiot was wrecking one of the few stores in town that carried the hero's preferred brand of cigarettes, but to make matters worse for himself, somewhere along the process of wreaking wanton property damage, the thug had also injured a woman and her child.

When Death Arms got the Hero Network call, he was _doubly __pissed__. _

Amusingly, just as he had intervened, the cocky punk felt lucky enough to try and challenge him head-on. An enlightening beatdown later, and the hapless man had been taught a vital lesson in humility and respect.

"Eiji's crew has been terrorizing the neighborhood for a few weeks," One of the officers spoke up as the group got to work attaching an intricate system of shackles around the criminal's torso, arms, and legs. It was nothing like an Iron Maiden, as it was missing the powerful Quirk-suppression equipment, but it was more than enough to subdue most low-tier Quirk users. "He was the last one still on the loose. Thanks for your help, Death Arms."

"Sure thing. See ya around." The brawler grumbled as he lit his last cigarette, stepping away from all of the buzz around the crime scene as he sought a quiet and secluded spot to take a much-needed break. He was still pissed off, and he needed some time—and nicotine—to clear his head.

On the bright side of the ordeal, the woman and child were safe, so there was that. On the other hand, the store's smoke section was trashed, meaning this would be his last good cigarette for some time.

He growled at the prospect, cranky beyond relief. Taking a drag, he settled against a brick wall on one of the city's shaded alleys, thoroughly enjoying the taste of the imported smoke. Already feeling the soothing effects of nicotine, he closed his eyes—

—until the heavens rumbled.

"The hell?" Sensing trouble, he darted out of the alley to get a clear view of the sky. Peeking upwards, he was able to catch a glimpse of an ominous swirling cloud seemingly made out of pure, inky darkness. Almost as quickly as it appeared, it dissipated into nothingness, but not before angrily spitting out a blazing object at worrisome speeds.

The burning wreckage streaked in a downward path across the sky, and before he knew it, he had started to sprint towards it.

A bone-rattling_ boom _followed as the object finally crashed out of sight, the street lights and cars nearby quivering in protest. The citizens around him started to scatter and panic, running around aimlessly as they attempted to figure out what in the heck was going on. There was a nauseating feeling that settled itself in the pit of the hero's stomach, but he did his best to shake it off.

High-pitched warning chimes went off on his mobile device right away as the Hero Network lit up with the GPS coordinates of the incident and heroes on their way. From then on, all he had to do was to follow the ever-increasing amount of blaring sirens heading its way and the concerning clouds of black smoke starting to rise over the tallest buildings.

Checking on the coordinates of the two Pro Heroes closest to him, he slowed down his jog momentarily to rendezvous with them.

"'Sup, man!" The excruciatingly upbeat Flare shot out of a side alley, greeting Death Arms through ragged, deep breaths. After pushing those spindly legs of his further, the youth had finally managed to catch up with the massive man, who appeared to be having little to no trouble jogging for long distances, even with his rather unhealthy and heavy smoking habits.

Death Arms noted Flare was already fully suited up in his new and rather annoyingly bright bodysuit that shone like a ripe lemon, and he was wearing those oversized Quirk-enhancing gauntlets he often teased him about.

"About time you get back to work, ya shiny slowpoke!" He chided lightly, his gruff tone somewhat hard to interpret as it was typical for the reserved hero, especially in his current agitated state. He then shifted his stern gaze ahead as he heard the familiar pattern of Gunhead's combat boots approaching fast at the upcoming intersection.

"Flare, Death Arms." Gunhead acknowledged the two as he joined the fray, their overall speed increasing as they approached ground zero.

The Battle Hero wasn't sure what they'd be up against in the next minutes, but he was already preparing himself for every possible combat scenario. His Gatling arms were loaded and ready to go, and he pushed his Quirk further to stockpile more of the keratin-based projectiles just in case. Quickly assessing the abilities of his current teammates, he felt confident they'd be able to deal with whatever was waiting for them up ahead.

The group remained silent until Flare spoke up with some effort. "Any idea...of what we...we're dealing with?"

"Beats me," Death Arms answered bluntly. "All I know is that it came out of some sort of swirling cloud in the sky."

"Interesting," Gunhead muttered to himself, committing that tidbit to memory for further research. Being in the dark as the others were, he shrugged when they shifted their attention to him, his helmet-warbled speech seemingly unaffected by the arduous cardio as he took the lead. "I'm not sure. The report only describes something _or _someone crashing onto the street. Based on the radio chatter, we have to assume it's—"

Whatever the Battle Hero was about to say got lost in the massive, deep reports of riot shotguns reverberating in the distance. The trio shared a grim look before continuing their sprint toward the unraveling chaos beyond. Cars and pedestrians alike—now certain of the general direction the pandemonium was coming from—fled the opposite way.

After a few more seconds of tense silence, the men were about to breathe out a sigh of relief, trusting the capable F.R.U. forces had taken care of the situation without complications. As they continued their advance, however, the crisp crackle of assault rifles rumbled through the streets. They were deliberate, controlled bursts; a fact that set Gunhead at ease.

That feeling quickly faded, because a cacophony of frenzied firing soon followed. And then, slowly but surely, the erratic gunfire dwindled to nothing.

A burst of white noise in their communicators startled the heroes. _"Evacuate the damn neighborhood while you still can! He's taken almost everyone out! Oh God, he just killed Hirano!"_ A pause, followed by a desperate outburst of gunshots. _"N-no, get away from me!" _The frantic man screamed, and the sound was cut short by what sounded like a sledgehammer hitting a fleshy obstacle with a sickening crunch. Immediately after, the radio went offline with a blast of static.

Shit. This was much worse than they had imagined.

"Let's go!" Death Arms and Gunhead roared in unison, renewing their momentum with a fresh burst of speed. Flare was struck still for a moment before following them, thoroughly disturbed by the transmission. What in the heck were they getting into?

Turning into the boulevard that leads to Hasan street, the trio had to jump out of the way to avoid being flattened by the dozens of emergency vehicles and fire engines hightailing it out of the scene. Behind the fleeing vehicles, crowds of wailing and screaming citizens ran in the same direction. A few officers were in their midst, most of who were doing their best to direct or carry the injured to safety.

The Pro Heroes slowly pushed forth through the thinning crowd, eventually stumbling upon the last men at the intersection, who were attempting to maintain a defensive retreat line to protect the fleeing masses. Among them were the remains of the extremely terrified but brave Police Force officers and four banged-up but otherwise capable First Response Unit members. They were forming a hasty and shaky barrier with their riot shields and weapons as they deliberately backstepped away from an unseen foe. A shout later, a final salvo of tear gas canisters was deployed in an attempt to keep the foe at bay. After that, they booked it out of there.

"Officers! What are we up against?" Gunhead pressed, moving in the path of the retreating group to get their attention. All of them were frazzled and pale, seemingly lost in their thoughts until they heard the gruff Pro Hero's stern question.

An older, gray-haired officer snapped out of it first, sighing in relief at their arrival. He had taken off his riot helmet, and his brown eyes were distant as he spoke in a weak whisper. "Oh, thank goodness you're here! We don't know...that—that _monster_ took everything they threw at him! He just killed—"

Gunhead nodded, listening intently to all of the gruesome details and adjusting his plan accordingly. When the officer's panicked jabbering began to devolve into pure nonsense, he grabbed him by the shoulders to gently shake him. "Focus. Did any of you get a good look at him?"

"We sure did. The big bastard's freakin' pink and he's got a purple cape, you won't miss him!" With that, the officers scrammed as fast as their feet could carry them.

Once they were a safe distance away, the heroes resumed their march, moving through the intersection that connected to Hasan street. As the remains of the tear gas dissipated, they got their first, true glimpse at the havoc wrought upon the neighborhood.

Hason street was in shambles, as far as the eye could see. Buildings that stood in the path of the crashing object had chunks sheared off their sides as if a knife had sliced through soft butter. Smoke arose from upturned vehicles and most of the damaged stores. Street lights and trees laid warped, broken, and twisted. Glass coated every surface on the sidewalks.

The trio moved past the crime scene tape walling off the worst part of the wreckage with extreme caution. A few hundred meters down the road, an enormous crater became visible. As they neared the crater, they had to hold back the urge to curse loudly as they gazed upon the bodies left behind.

Gunhead tapped the side of his helmet, activating a vital signs scanner as he swept through the downed men. Most appeared to be seriously injured but still alive. Three were fading quickly. He walked past another, his body crumpled awkwardly into a sitting position, the scanner blaring a dire flatline. He crouched by the man's side to get a better look—

—and he stumbled back, shuddering at the shocking sight. A good chunk of the man's skull was _gone,_ helmet and all. Well hidden behind the comfort of his old mask, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, doing his best to stomp down on the foreboding feeling creeping into his mind as he focused on maintaining his steely resolve.

As bad as the situation appeared to be, he was still fairly confident they could take on whoever was out there. No matter how one looked at it, even the most well-trained _Quirkless _men did not fare well against a Quirk user. It was just the harsh reality of this world and _human evolution_. Quirks often granted their wielders enhanced physical resilience other attributes that'd be nearly impossible for regular men to achieve. To put it bluntly, the Quirkless were frail and brittle in comparison.

The First Response Unit was a capable bunch, but this was exactly why they couldn't fully rely on the elite team to subdue Quirk-empowered villains. It could easily turn into a bloodbath.

Glancing down at his mobile device a final time, Gunhead noted more Pro Heroes were well on the way. It would be a good five to fifteen minutes for their arrival—far too long for some of these folk. He tagged the location of the injured and dead in the Hero Network's global positioning system before taking a decisive step forward. "We can't wait any longer for the others, we need to deal with the threat _now _to minimize casualties."

Death Arms grumbled in eager agreement, his mouth twisted into a deep scowl as he took in the damage. He cast a solemn look at the dead man, his temper flaring. He could not wait to pummel the bastard who did this!

"Jesus," Flare muttered to himself, brown eyes wide behind his domino mask as he processed the terrible neighborhood-level carnage. When he saw the bloodied corpse, he heaved. "I think I'm going to throw up."

All around him, empty bullet casings practically coated every inch of the road, and they had to push past many pieces of uplifted asphalt, rocks and assorted street litter to move on. It looked like a post-apocalyptic scene from a damn zombie movie.

Walking by a downed officer, Flare couldn't stop himself from crouching to check on him. He was barely conscious, just enough to writhe and twist in pain. His tactical helmet had been smashed to bits by an unknown object, although it had done its job preventing a mortal injury. Most of his body armor was in a similar deplorable state.

Before he could do anything, an arm held him back.

"Don't try to move them—it might make matters worse for them if they have spinal injuries. We need to find the culprit and we need to get them away from this area. The sooner we do it, the faster rescue teams can move back in." Gunhead stated through grit teeth. He raised one of his Gatling arms as he resumed the search, wary of potential ambushes from the countless hiding spots around them.

When no enemies made their presence known, he made his way up the incline surrounding the smoky crater to observe what laid beyond. Looking down at the ten-meter gouge on the street, he noted how its inner surface had been turned into a powdery, glassy substance, with everything surrounding it being downright carbonized. For something to survive _this _level of damage, they were certainly not to be trifled with. If they were still around—

"Yum yum! Buu want!" A high-pitched, child-like voice shouted in excitement not too far in the distance.

The trio's heads snapped to the sound's general direction. They shifted their stances, bracing for a surprise attack—

—but it never came. Instead, they caught a glimpse of something massive and pink crashing into and _through_ the front of a building, the resounding clatter of broken glass making them wince.

Flare instantly recognized the fading neon colors adorning the large signs above the store. He quirked an eyebrow at the strange development. "Did...did they really just break into the _Amedama Bakery?_"

Gunhead turned to hush him with a finger brusquely settled over his mouth, signaling for them to take advantage of the perp's distraction to pursue a stealthy approach. As quietly as they could make it through the messy roadway, they hurried along until they were right across the street from the perp, where they could finally get a proper look.

Ogling at the wide assortment of bakery items stocked from wall to wall, there stood a ginormous caped figure, possibly nearing seven to eight feet in height. They were just as massive width-wise, their obese frame easily dwarfing Death Arm's muscular body and then some. They were happily giggling in pure joy as they ripped apart a glass display case to get access to the sweets within, tossing the heavy panels aside carelessly and with little effort. The glass exploded against a far wall, peppering the villain with broken shards that appeared to cause little to no harm.

"What the hell are they doing?" Death Arms whispered, baffled as to why someone in their right mind would ravage a store half a block away from a crime scene. It was too obvious and_ downright stupid_. Did they _want _to be caught? No matter, they'd get what was coming to them now!

"Obviously they love their sweets," Flare half-joked, trying to break the building tension. His comrades didn't laugh, but it let him take his mind off the gruesome sight from earlier. As a novice hero in his first year, he had yet to fully experience the inevitable and much darker side of their career.

Gunhead stared at the perp, trying to make sense out of everything. It was to no avail. Something didn't feel quite right about this. They—whatever or whoever they were—should have been on the run by now.

"It doesn't matter," He answered Death Arms tersely after a brief delay, raising both arms to aim with his revolver-like Gatling bracers. "He's not getting away with any of this. Get ready." He said, taking a deep breath as he shifted his body weight forward to counter his weapon's heavy recoil. He could hear Death Arms and Flare moving into defensive positions behind him. Good.

_Three, two, one... _"Not so fast, you punk!" He called out loud enough to make the villain halt for a moment, his voice greatly enhanced by his helmet speakers. "Come out and surrender peacefully and you will not be harmed." His Gatling arms let out a _thunk_ as a round was chambered, emphasizing the imminence of violence.

The pink, rubbery tentacle above their head sprung up in attention as they spared an apathetic glance at the heroes, the creases the villain had for eyes marred with a faint frown of annoyance. "You leave Buu alone! Buu hungry!" They yelled back dismissively, their voice more akin to that of a bratty six-year-old boy. Assessing their clothing choice, physical traits, and speech inflection convinced Gunhead they were, in fact, a male.

After blowing raspberries at the trio, the villain proceeded to rip away another glass cover, flinging it aside with excessive force as an act of callow defiance. He gave Gunhead a dirty look before moving towards the exposed bakery goods. Were they dealing with a destructive, indulgent, _murderous_ manchild?

The Battle Hero growled in frustration, shifting his aim to the objects the pink giant yearned. He hated to cause more collateral damage, but he wasn't wasting any more time with pleasantries. They needed to get his attention and draw him away from this area, _now. _ "You asked for it, pal!"

_Boom. _Every display case in the bakery exploded into a messy cloud of shrapnel, pulverized sugar, and flour as they were torn asunder by the hardened keratin-based projectiles produced by the Battle Hero. Only when the chambers clicked empty did he stop firing. Hopefully, the message was loud and clear to the perp and he'd realize he was outgunned _and _outmatched.

Buu's squinty eyes twitched sporadically, cracking wide open in horrified shock as he stared at the devastation before him. Nothing remained of the tasty food! Why would he do this?!

"Gun-man ruin food!" The upset Majin whined in a shrill tone, a flabby, bloodied hand pointed accusingly at the bakery's remains as he waddled around to face them. Small rivulets of steam shot out of the large pores dotting his head.

"That I did, villain," Gunhead replied cooly, forcing a new batch of rounds into his Gatling braces as he spoke. He tried to ignore the blood splatter matting the pink foe's hands, refocusing the brewing enmity he felt into raw conviction. It appeared his shock and awe tactic hadn't worked the way he expected, although he _did _get the pouting villain's full attention.

A fight it was, then.

Next to him, Death Arms grew impatient and much angrier. "What's gumball going to do about it?" He taunted, smashing both of his meaty fists together, issuing a rather direct challenge. His fists would do the talking now.

The humongous manchild stomped forward, his golden gloves creaking loudly as he balled his fists tight. He markedly ignored Flare and Death Arms_, _pointing a sizable finger towards the bad gun-man that took his sweets. "BUU WILL HURT YOU!**"** He screeched, driving a foot down into the shop's floor hard enough it pulverized the tiles.

"Uh, you guys really pissed him off," Flare noted with growing alarm as he positioned himself out of physical range.

Buu's eyes drifted to the loud punch-man_,_ who had smashed his oversized fists together once more to draw his undivided attention. Roaring a battle cry, punch-man launched himself towards the Majin at full speed with a fist cocked back, aimed directly at his face. Out of the three strangers bothering him, this one was the largest and closest to his size, and perhaps the biggest threat.

"Leave Buu alone!" He warned, shifting a portion of his massive upper body with appalling ease as if it were made out of elastic at the very last moment, making the Pro Hero's hefty swing miss by a few inches.

As Death Arms attempted to reign in his surprise at the villain's unreal show of flexibility, he dug in his boots on the asphalt to regain his balance for his next attack. Having little to grab onto in the crumbling road, his boots briefly skid over the loose surface. It was an almost imperceptible slip, for he was almost fully recovered in a fraction of a second and ready to strike again.

Unfortunately for him, Buu was _much faster_. When he noticed the misstep, his mouth broke into a faint, mischievous smile. "Punch-man go bye-bye!"

_Smack. _The Pro hero did not get enough time to process the pink villain's simplistic sentence before he was backhanded across his exposed, broad chest. Even though he was a rather tall and well-built man at 6'9, he was sent flying through the road a good thirty feet, ending up stuck on the side of a van that was partially buried in a collapsed storefront. The vehicle's frame caved in with absurd ease around his body, and the force of the impact left him breathless as his airways spasmed.

Gunhead was thoroughly startled upon seeing Death Arms getting flung aside as if he weighed nothing. The man was tough as nails, so he wasn't worried about his health at the moment. Casting aside the surging wave of unease to focus on the deceivingly dangerous and agile foe standing before him, he turned to face the hesitant Lighting Hero_. _"Flare_, _any time now!"

"Here goes nothing," Flare whispered as he swallowed the fear welling up in his throat, charging forward with his gauntlets shimmering. "Hey, doughboy!" The youth hollered at the pink behemoth, gaining his undivided attention.

Buu was surprised to see the skinny yellow man charging at him. He snickered, spreading his arms wide open expectantly as he prepared to crush him with a bear hug. _"_Buu gonna break mean stick-boy and then Buu break gun-man and then punch-man!"

Just as Flare was within the Majin's reach, a pair of thick, open-palmed metal gauntlets were presented. "I don't think so!" He taunted, and Buu's bulbous forehead twisted into a confused frown. "Say cheese!** _Photon Beams!_**" The Lighting Hero shouted, the focusing lenses centered in his palms snapping open to let out a high pitched whirr.

With the click of a shutter opening, an eye-searing blast of pure light enveloped the oblivious Majin. Buu let out a pained shriek, stumbling backward until he fell into a nearby concrete pillar, his body sinking into it with ease as he desperately rubbed his eyes. _"_Buu blind! Buu blind!"

Not too far from the stunned villain, Death Arms struggled to recover, his lungs still unwilling to take in air. He craned his head up to track the faint hum of a helicopter circling them; the news stations were already here. Just great!

What were they going to think about this? A random punk smacking Death Arms around like he was nothing? Hell no.

Today was turning out to be an awful day. He was positively fuming now.

Suddenly able to breathe without issues thanks to the fresh wave of adrenaline-induced fury, he pulled himself from the remains of the van with little effort. He dropped to one knee briefly, letting out a few expletives in frustration as his balance remained off-kilter. Feeling around his ribcage, he was thankful no ribs had been broken. As he stood up, he was forced to avert his gaze upon hearing Flare's gauntlets whirr and go off a second time, their trademark cornea-searing light surging through the street like a flashbang grenade.

While the massive villain squealed in pain, he wasted little time rejoining the battle. By the time he made it back, Gunhead had unleashed a volley of projectiles at the walls and support structures above the pink freak. The weakened material crumbled apart, collapsing onto him and stunning him. A perfect opening for Death Arms to strike.

"Your turn, big guy!" The Battle Hero shouted.

Death Arms happily complied, letting out a fierce roar as he barrelled towards Buu. Making quick work of the distance, he shouldered the blob with all of his considerable momenta into the building.

"Ow-ow-ow!" Buu cried out throughout the onslaught, his boots leaving deep gouges on the store's ceramic flooring as he was forcefully tackled and punched backward. Concrete, rebar, and an assortment of building materials rained down upon the groaning villain's head, and Death Arms refused to stop his ferocious charge through the commercial structure until they came out of the other side of the building. Ducking low into the behemoth's bloated gut as they plowed through everything, the villain had become an impromptu debris shield for the aggressive hero.

With the sound of breaking glass and smashed concrete, the battling duo breached into the warehouse section of the building. The Majin had been able to remain upright through most of the tussle, but his luck ran out the moment his legs met great resistance against the solid foundation of the loading dock. He stumbled and teetered over the edge briefly, his weight being partially held up by the remains of a creaking steel roll-up door he had broken open.

Death Arms didn't skip a beat, delivering a thunderous kick into the villain's gut that sent him over the edge.

Losing his precarious balance, Buu screamed as he fell a good six feet into the street with a _thud _that left a sizable indentation on the surface. The ground shook with his fall, and the momentum unwillingly forced him to roll over himself a few more times until he finally came to rest face-down on the shattered asphalt, his body rippling like a water bed until the kinetic energy dissipated.

"Had enough yet, ya murderous freak?" Death Arms taunted the downed oddity as he jumped off the loading dock. With the score settled and his pride partially restored, the hero spat out a mixture of dirt and plaster derisively, dusting himself off as he puffed his chest assertively. "I'm not in a good mood today, Tubbs, so ya better give up now or I'm going to pummel you until you beg for mercy."

"Buu not done!" The Majin shouted defiantly, his speech muffled by the purple cape awkwardly wrapped around his head and face. He dug both of his meaty fists onto the asphalt, and the forceful action tore the road apart as he pushed himself to his knees. Fuming in chagrin, he wrestled with his cape until he managed to place it back into its rightful place.

Buu blinked. Then he blinked some more, his mouth sliding into a soured pout. Thanks to stick-man, all he could see were bright, faint outlines and swirling afterimages that made no sense to him. Frustrated, he swung at one of the moving punch-man silhouettes.

Death Arms sneered, dodging the clumsy attempt by a wide margin. It looked like he'd get to avenge those hurt and killed today, after all. "You want some more then. Fine by me!" What a stubborn fool!

Charging forward once more_, _he launched a flurry of fists into Buu's torso. Each punch sank into the villain's flesh with absurd ease and it felt as if he was hitting a sack of sand. After a few seconds of no progress, his frustrations began to mount. Every bit of energy behind his punches was trickling away into the tissue nearby like waves dispersing in an ocean, and even worse, the villain was barely showing any signs of injury or pain!

Was he even hurting him?! This reminded him too much of his sparring sessions against Fat Gum back in the day.

_'If he's like Fat Gum, maybe I just have to hit him harder and where it counts!' _Putting most of his power output into his next flurry of hits, he roared as he threw an uppercut into the villain's double chin and a final haymaker right where his nose should have been. There was no way those hits would fail to knock the villain out for good—

—almost in slow motion, he watched as the impacted tissue provided no resistance, caving in a good three to five inches under his punches, pink splatter flying out everywhere as his face broke apart.

The Pro Hero stiffened, withdrawing his fist with dawning horror. Did he just shatter the villain's skull?

"Death Arms_, stand down!_" A mortified Gunhead ordered as he emerged through the warehouse dock to forcefully grasp Death Arm's shoulder, pulling him away. The Battle Hero's voice was dangerously low as he gaped at the villain's battered body, which was coated in massive indentations all over. Worst of all, his face had been turned into a gruesome, pulpy crater.

"Holy shit! Talk about overkill, man!" Flare cried out as he jumped off the dock.

"I didn't—it was an accident! I swear, it's like he's made out of dough or something. He's tough and I—I thought he'd be able to handle it..." Death Arms' voice trailed off remorsefully as he took a few steps back to take in the excessive physical injuries. His knees threatened to buckle beneath him.

Gunhead shook his head somberly. This should have ended without such brutality on their part.

On the bright side, the villain had yet to collapse, somehow managing to remain upright through sheer willpower. That was a good sign. Musutafu's Villain Hospital was as well-equipped as the city's top hospitals, so Gunhead had no doubt the villain would recover... _e__ventually_. Hopefully, this would teach Death Arms a lesson in self-control too. He understood his outrage, but they were Pro Heroes! There was _always _a way to win without resorting to brutal violence or death.

The Commission would probably chew him out as well, and perhaps even discipline or temporarily suspend him.

Sighing, he turned to the pallid and very distressed brawler, who was pacing while muttering to himself. As much as he hated to do it, he _had _to be blunt. "Your excuses are irrelevant, Death Arms. You know your strength and you overdid it. You let your emotions take control. They saw it too," He nodded towards the helicopters circling the scene. "Lucky for you, he's still alive. We need to call an—"

A deep, unexpected mumble from the pink giant halted Gunhead's oncoming diatribe. The words came out twisted and smothered through the villain's heavily concaved face, making little sense. The heroes cautiously moved forward, prepared to both render assistance handcuff him for their own safety...

...but they stopped at the last moment. Something didn't feel quite right, and it made them hesitate with unease.

Ruffled by his inability to see or speak, Buu began to wave his arms around frantically until he was able to massage his jaw into a functional shape. Cracking open a portion of his warped mouth, the Majin took in a mouthful of air, forcing it to pressurize his pitted upper body. With a puff of his cheeks and a loud _pop, _the indentations in his torso vanished. Another deep breath and his face sprung back to its original shape, any signs of visible injures gone altogether.

Two beady eyes snapped open, as good as new. They settled briefly on the skinny man that blinded him and the one that punched him silly, and he eyed them with disdain. They would pay for hurting him—

Buu's thoughts ground to a halt when he noticed the masked man that stood just behind punch-man. He recognized those wrist-mounted weapons right away. His left eye twitched as he relived the moment the bakery's sweets were blasted to bits by them.

No, not by them—_h__e did it! He__ did it! _The Majin's countenance darkened ominously as his stomach began to growl again, tunnel vision fully locking onto gun-man.

A wave of ill intent and palpable tension saturated the air at once.

Instinctively, the heroes stiffened, suddenly feeling vulnerable being stuck in the cramped, tactically unsound space between the warehouse, rows of tractor-trailer trucks, and the villain. They made a hasty move for open ground—

"Gun-man ruin yummy time!" The villain cried out, catching them off-guard with a burst of incredibly fast motion very unfitting for someone his size. The behemoth barrelled through Death Arms and Flare, his attention never faltering from the one responsible for his grief.

"Whoa—" Flare exclaimed in alarm as he threw himself sideways, readying another _Photon Blast _to disorient the villain. Barely caught within Buu's arms reach, he was whacked aside in what could be considered a gentle and lazy manner. Even then, a part of his protective chest plate buckled and the air was kicked out of his lungs.

He skidded and tumbled harshly across the road for a good 10 meters, his padded suit protecting him from the gnarly effects of road rash until the material disintegrated around his right shoulder, knees, and forearms. He stifled a scream as bare skin grated against unforgiving asphalt until he finally came to a miserable, rough stop.

Unlike Flare, Death Arms was well within the villain's striking range. He didn't see the vengeful stubby arm that struck him, but he surely felt the sharp, stabbing pain it caused as some of his ribs fractured, making him blackout for a few heartbeats. Putting little resistance against the brute force imparted, he was unwillingly sent airborne with startling velocity. He regained consciousness upon crashing through the guts of two semi-trailers and a brick barrier. As he came to an unceremonious stop over a broken fire hydrant, he came to the realization they had royally goofed up by underestimating the villain.

Standing the farthest from the pink foe, Gunhead _knew _he had more than enough room to dodge_._ Mind you, he _had _been far enough to avoid the villain's clumsy swipe that struck his fellow heroes, and he had instinctively jumped up and away into the dock ramp for good measure. He was all but certain he had given himself a perfect window of opportunity to counterattack—

—but he had been terribly wrong. In the time it took him to blink, the villain had decided it'd be a good time to defy physics by stretching one of his arms a good fifteen feet towards him like an unwinding roll of rubber.

Gunhead's eyes widened in alarm as he made a mad dash out of its path. Unfortunately, the gum-like appendage adjusted its trajectory like a homing missile, and soon enough it was upon him. The Battle Hero grunted out a rare expletive—

—that was cut short, becoming a stifled, gurgling sound instead. The moment he had opened his mouth to express his dismay, his windpipe had constricted dangerously, courtesy of the inhumanly large glove that had clamped itself around his neck like a boa.

The villain then hoisted him off the dock to slam him against a relatively unscathed wall. _Shit._

"Buu—make—gun—man—pay!" The extended pause between each word was emphasized by his back crunching painfully as it hit unyielding concrete, every successive impact burying the Battle Hero deeper into it. He tried to maneuver himself into a better position to mount an offensive, but the villain's comically elongated arm prevented him from causing any significant harm.

Thoroughly amused by his struggle, the pink menace shouted "Buu!" gleefully just before bashing Gunhead's skull against the crumbling concrete even harder. Bloodied spittle shot out of his mouth as his lungs and trachea seized further with the worsening internal injuries.

His lungs began to burn and his heart rate skyrocketed. He tried to remain calm and delay the overwhelming symptoms of asphyxiation from taking over. With the dwindling strength he had left, he tried to pry open the villain's huge fingers—which were three to four times the size of his own—but it was to no avail. The grip was unrelenting and tightened even further the moment he renewed his struggle.

After another two hits, his helmet's diagnostic suite began to wail damage reports. He barely noticed them, for his thoughts were already drifting into incoherencies. The next impact made his helmet crack. He could now see light through an opening near his forehead and the advanced heads-up display covering his vision flickered, becoming tinted with red hues and distortions. Was that blood or a glitch?

He tried to concentrate. With Death Arms and Flare unable to assist right away, he was out of options. At this pace, one of two things would happen sooner rather than later; either his helmet would buckle and his head would pop like a ripe watermelon, or his windpipe would be crushed to a pulp. Perhaps both would happen at the same time. No doubt the outcome would be equally grim.

Finding himself stuck between morbid thoughts wrought by oxygen deprivation and an immediate threat to his life, he knew he had no other options. Growling vehemently, he raised both of his Gatling arms and unleashed a torrent of low penetration projectiles into the villain's center mass. Every nail-like shot embedded itself into the pink giant's flesh, quickly turning him into an eight-foot pincushion.

Buu sputtered a disgruntled whine, peeved by the foreign objects painfully and rapidly entering his body against his will. As retribution, he shifted his free hand to grasp the hero's left Gatling arm, giving the built-in weapon a _soft squeeze _as he grinned deviously. "Boom-boom go bye-bye!"

Gunhead gasped out a groan of pure misery, his vision dulling. Deep pain bloomed through his arm and shoulder the moment the outer revolver-like structure warped inward, the nerves within firing up like a million hot needles as broken metal shards dug into them.

Bullheaded as he was, he refused to stop firing with his remaining functional arm—

—until the villain squeezed even harder, outright crushing the sensitive tissue to a pulp. The pressure worsened, and he felt the ulna and radius bones around his wrists giving way with a nauseating _snap_. This time, the raw agony elicited a guttural scream out of him, and he screamed until his throat became hoarse. Unable to focus on his Quirk any longer, the painful hail of keratin peppering the vile villain dwindled to nothing.

Managing to crack a tearful eye open, Gunhead noticed movement directly behind the pink menace, the large, blurred silhouette vaguely familiar as it approached with a noticeable limp. Knowing what he had to do, he bit down hard on his bottom lip, drawing blood. It allowed him to regain a semblance of clarity and control throughout his battered body, and he used the bitter taste of copper and relentless waves of pain to refocus and take aim with his remaining Gatling arm.

_'You left me with no choice. This ends now!' _Willing every last drop of his Quirk into modifying and enhancing projectile mass, he unleashed a powerful barrage of heavy slugs point-blank into the villain's fat face. This time, the rarely used rounds didn't just nick the surface of his skin; they sank _deep _and disappeared beneath.

_That_ did the trick. Although the shots did not take him down, the villain _did _shriek in pain when one of his eyes was perforated by a stray shot, the hold on Gunhead's throat slackening right away.

_Keep going! _Able to breathe again, the Pro Hero took advantage of the fleeting opening, planting his combat boots right over Buu's bloated cheeks before kicking with all of the force his exhausted muscles could provide. The first hits did little, but by the time he had delivered half a dozen brutal kicks, the villain's head had been forced to snap and bend backward into an unnatural, strained angle. With a muted grunt, the bastard finally staggered in a daze, letting go of the exhausted hero with a forceful shove.

Upon being thrown back onto the street, Gunhead's legs gave way and he collapsed into a wheezing, lightheaded heap. Ignoring the alarms blaring in his ears, he felt around his utility belt until he found two undamaged stimpacks. He plunged one of the devices into his neck and one just above his shattered arm, allowing the medical concoction to do its magic.

While his vitals stabilized, he watched as the villain wobbled around helplessly, whining and unbalanced by his contorted, hole-filled head. Upon regaining mental clarity, Gunhead noted with apprehension that most of the older perforations all over the villain's body courtesy of his Gatling arms were shrinking rapidly, the gashes flooding with pink goop. Even the deep-tissue damage he had just done to his head was mending.

For all intents and purposes, he should have been dead or grievously wounded. He _was _a true regenerator. That by itself was worrisome, but not as much as the fact he also wielded super strength, enhanced speed, and an unknown Mutation-type Quirk that granted him incredible physical malleability.

Possessing so many Quirks wasn't possible, at least not _naturally_. Was he one of those _things _his fellow heroes encountered in Hosu City? No, he didn't have the time to ponder about this! They needed to take him down, _now._

"Do it!" He croaked towards Death Arms, who had finished collecting an impromptu weapon off the sidewalk. He loomed behind the villain, prepared to strike.

With The Battle Hero out of harm's way, Death Arms grit his teeth, ignoring the constant pounding ache in his ribcage as he made his move. He tightened his hold against the street pole, letting out a grunt of exertion as he swung the half-ton of steel against the oblivious pink foe_,_ who was still cradling his ugly, hole-ridden face.

"Hey, ya oversized balloon!" He called out mid-swing.

Just as Buu turned around to glare at him through a single, misshape eye, the blurred piece of fast-moving, unforgiving steel met pink flesh with a terrible, fleshy _clang_. The vents around the Majin's body spit out clouds of pressurized air, the force behind the swing warping the pole around his deflating frame. His feet left the ground as he was thrown back, and he came to a stop after crushing an upturned car. Even as he slid down the wreckage, the deep indentation remained across his midsection.

Not done with his assault yet, Death Arms flipped the pole around, raising the heaviest side of the mangled piece of steel overhead. He screamed as he put every ounce of force available in his body into the downward motion, allowing all of its weight and momentum to do the rest as it smashed into Buu's body with astounding force. The vehicle and downed Majin ended deeply buried in a newly formed crater thanks to the impromptu hammer, his upper body flattened onto the sedan's frame as if the villain had melted apart.

"You think that finally got him?" Flare asked as he hobbled to stand by Death Arms. The Lighting Hero was a mess, his once bright yellow hero outfit was now bloodied, stained, and shredded to bits. He shifted his gaze from the unmoving remains of the villain to watch Death Arms drop the warped light pole aside. The brawler was hunching over and panting with exertion and countless aches.

Hopefully, this was the end of it. This fight had gotten gnarly real quick.

"I doubt it," Gunhead muttered grimly, cradling his arm as he limped towards them. He waved Flare aside as the youth rushed to check on his significant wounds, unwilling to show weakness at such a critical moment. His helmet had a hairline crack that spread through the top and down its sides, with a portion of its bottom piece missing altogether, exposing his bloodied jawline. A few more hits earlier and it would have given in.

"He...he's a Class-C regenerator, at least." He elaborated raspily, doing his best to not look at the mangled mess his arm had become. Even now, his vision would blur and become hazy every few seconds from the head injuries he had taken. It would be a shock if he wasn't concussed. He had no doubt his vocal cords were damaged too.

Unseen by the distracted trio, the crushed sedan's battery had split and short-circuited, spreading a glitter-like cloud of sparks into the vehicle's engine bay, moving dangerously close to the leaking gas tank and fuel vapors. Before they knew it, the wreckage had burst into a fierce fireball of shrapnel and molten steel, the villain still buried within the blaze without hope of escaping unscathed.

"Betcha _that_ did it." Death Arms grunted with a tinge of satisfaction and annoyance, his eyes still glued to the fire.

The heroes had to protect their faces as a secondary and much stronger explosion hit them. They couldn't help it but breathe out a collective sigh of relief and sorrow as they watched what remained of the vehicle fall to pieces. It was a sad and unfortunate development, but not all villains could be contained, subdued, _or _saved. Too many lives had been needlessly lost today already.

"Let's call the crews back in," Gunhead said, his somber voice cracking and hoarse as he fetched his mobile device to send the message. The trio stepped away from the uncomfortable heat, leery of any further explosions.

"You need to get yourself looked at. Your arm looks like crap," Death Arms' rigid speech was tinged with a trace of concern as he finally caught a glimpse of the Battle Hero's shattered arm and the crimson droplets falling onto the street.

Gunhead shook his head adamantly. "I'll be fine. I've hard worse. I can wait until—"

"Uh, guys..." Flare interrupted, instantly slashing through the fleeting sense of safety and relief as his voice climbed into a fearful high pitch. The other heroes slowly followed his shaky finger as he pointed at the burning wreckage.

A foreboding chill ran down their spine.

Among the flames, random chunks of pink tissue began to bubble and spasm, their consistency turning somewhat liquid as they tried to pull themselves together, even as the blaze continued to tear them apart. Warbled squeals of pain echoed through the street as chunks of the villain's flesh turned to ash, but it was glaringly obvious his regeneration abilities were outpacing the damage wrought by the fire. Soon enough, larger chunks of pulsating, amorphous flesh shifted on their own through the blaze to merge into a single point.

Gunhead took a deep, unsteady breath. His regeneration was _beyond_ Class-C. At this rate, the villain's body would be fully reformed in minutes, if not _seconds_.

"Oh, God..." Flare surmised their overall thoughts quite well. "He's like that freakin' liquid metal Terminator!"

The trio warily created some distance between themselves and the freakish force of nature.

Gunhead glanced down at his remaining Gatling arm, his countenance grim. After using its heavy-fire mode, it was down to a meager five percent of its capacity and reloading at an abysmal rate of one round every ten seconds. The steel firing chamber was moderately warped due to excessive heat output as well. To make matters worse, the reloading process was slowed down further by his injuries. His body was splitting its energy between healing _and _his willful desire to replenish his weapon's cache.

Death Arms was in a better state, albeit barely, but it was becoming far too obvious brute force wouldn't be enough to down this villain. Neither would small explosions, for that matter.

Flare—as a sprightly, dainty hero heavily focused on Support roles during battles—wouldn't fare well in direct combat against this brute either.

This wasn't going to end well.

Gunhead swallowed the literal lump in his throat as the regenerating pink monstrosity took a more familiar form, looming over the hellfire. "We're going to need some serious backup..."

* * *

**A/N:**

Everything is unfolding slowly but things_ will_ spiral out control. Since Buu doesn't have Babidi telling him to go on murderous sprees or to act maliciously, our folks will be dealing with a slightly less genocidal and more playful/patient Majin. Unfortunately, when dealing with extreme threats, this society tends to lash out first and ask questions later. Very bad mix.

So far, our heroes and villains believe they have a fighting chance...but do they?

**Thanks to those who have reviewed/favorited/etc. I truly appreciate it!**

**Note:** All chapters are being rewritten. Things have gotten rougher and grimier, and things might lead to an M rating sooner than expected. I had a specific mood I wanted to set up in this story and I wasn't able to capture in the first drafts, but it's now heading in the right way. Rewriting in progress through May-June 2020.


	3. Reality Check

**CHAPTER THREE: REALITY CHECK**

_'I'm sure you think this is one of those great stories with a picture-perfect happy ending. A story where the great and mighty heroes rise up to persevere through the adversity, fighting against all odds to triumph over villainy. Over evil itself._

_For a while, I believed that to be our story. "To be a great hero, you have to never give up hope." That's what my idol and mentor once told me._

_Sadly, that isn't our story. At least I don't think so anymore. I really don't know what makes it worse; the fact we had put so much hope on Hero Society and their capabilities back then, or that it took us so long to grasp how seemingly fruitless our efforts would be..._

_Regardless, not all hope is lost. Not yet, anyhow...'_

* * *

_Buu _stirred awake. When punch-man hit him with the heavy metal pole, he had been hammered silly straight into a downed vehicle. The heap of metal then proceeded to explode, and his mangled body ended up strewn across its melting engine bay and the cracked road like a blown up egg.

He laid there for some time, his consciousness scattered and lessened through the thousands of rivulets that made him _himself_. Usually, such an attack would not take _Buu _down. Something was still wrong inside _Buu. _Everything around him moved fast, and he felt like he was sleepily wading through heavy water.

The annoying people appeared to be scared of his power regardless, _but they had yet to see_ _anything_.

That sad, tired feeling was lessening, but it emphasized that overbearingly hollow sensation in his core; something he had felt ever since he awakened in the crater earlier with little to no recollection of what had happened before. No matter how hard he tried to reach for the broken strands of arcane power he wielded for countless millennia, they appeared to willfully evade his grasp.

No matter—it was almost imperceptible, but they got closer to his reach with every passing moment.

Maybe once he ate something and took a nap he'd feel better. With those pleasant thoughts as his driving force, _Buu_ focused everything into pulling himself back together. His body complied, albeit slower than usual. The fire ravaging him hurt, and it did more damage than many other elements that were used against him. However, in the end, it mattered little; his body could handle it. It always did.

Gaining the upper hand against the constant burn damage, the Majin's tissue pulled itself together faster, regenerating every single bit lost to the blaze. After a few seconds, the heat became bearable and then insignificant, his body regaining its humanoid features. First came the legs, then the arms, and finally the facial features and clothing.

Good as new, _Buu's_ furrowed eyes locked onto the three retreating people ruining his day. They would pay...

* * *

_Gunhead_ swallowed the literal lump in his throat. "We're going to need some serious backup..."

The impossibly resilient creature grunted, its reforming body straightening itself back up like a possessed contortionist through the molten steel. Regaining its physical features, it proceeded to force its flesh to spit out the dozens of charred nail-like bullets _Gunhead_ had pumped at its bloated body earlier. Its skin bore no signs of burns, bruising or blood whatsoever—even as it stood over the open flames.

What kind of ridiculous Quirk was this?! It was vaguely familiar to the one used by that petty D-Rank Sludge Villain that had been smashed into submission by _All Might_ not too long ago, but much more formidable.

_Buu's _mouth curled downward as he regarded the three men eyeing him warily from a safe distance. "_Buu _tired of you! _Buu _make you go away now!" He proclaimed loudly.

"Damn it," The _Battle Hero _hissed out; their full regeneration took significantly less time than what he had anticipated. So far, he had only produced four more heavy shots for his gauntlet.

He engaged his communicator, setting it into the wideband frequency as he raised his functional arm towards _Buu_. "Attention Hero Network! This is _Gunhead. _We are in serious need of backup and heavy firepower _now_! GPS coordinates attached!"

Things were looking up, though. A glance at the map showed reinforcements were almost here; _Edgeshot _and Kamui Woods were closing in and _Hawks _was less than a minute—

_Buu _slapped his meaty fists loudly against his chest like an ireful pink gorilla, his mouth deforming as he stretched it wide open into an O-shape to take in the deepest breath so far. His gut inflated like a blood-gorged mosquito, and he only stopped when even his cheeks had taken in as much air as they could.

Truly, it would have been a borderline hilarious scene if it weren't for the dreadful tingling at the back of their necks forewarning them of impending doom; a feeling which gripped the youngest of the three heroes with an unyielding force.

"_G-Gunhead, _wh-what do we do-" _Flare _stuttered, his thought processes completely halting as he watched the behemoth heal with inhuman ease, his ominous bloating now being the final nail in the coffin. His voice was low and uncertain, and he felt like his boots were stuck to the ground, every muscle in his body was suddenly frozen and numb.

_Flare _looked like a deer caught in the headlights... _shit. _He had to do something!

_Gunhead _felt the adrenaline surge through his veins, empowering his limbs and muscles. Time slowed down to a crawl as he dashed towards the frozen _Lighting Hero, _his pleading words urging him to move out of the way falling to deaf ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught _Death Arms _reacting to the threat, his long legs carrying him away from the behemoth's impending attack.

Their radio buzzed, and a familiar voice rang through. He was too distracted to understand what was said or identify them. He spared a tense glance at the Villain; the distended pink creature appeared to be just about to pop at the seams, its cheeks twitching furiously as it struggled to keep the collected air within.

Based on its body language,_ Gunhead_ was mentally bracing for a powerful gale of wind to batter them. But if that was it, why did his body react so brashly as if it were a true threat to their lives? Why was he instinctively running towards _Flare _in an attempt to _save him_?

The answer to his question came forth quickly, and it was mind-numbingly terrifying.

With an ear-splitting scream, the man—no, the _monster_—had not only unleashed a wave of hurricane-force winds...he also unleashed_ death itself._ _Gunhead's _breath caught in his throat as he witnessed an angry tunnel-like vortex of white and rosy energy erupt out of the giant's ever-expanding mouth, lancing out towards them and the middle of the street like a truck-sized bullet.

Towards an unmoving _Flare. _His eyes widened with pure dread as he willed his legs to propel him faster. Faster..._faster!_

An acute and extreme spike in air pressure made his eardrums nearly burst, throwing off his balance as what felt like a thousand needles were stabbed into his skull at once. Waves of heat and wind buffeted his body as he stubbornly tried to remain upright, an arm outstretched towards _Flare's_ paralyzed form. Head spinning as his senses got scrambled further, he fell to his knees.

The slimmer _Lighting Hero _was no match for the walloping wind and he was flung back with ease, his head bouncing hard against the asphalt. Tears were flowing freely now as the rookie tried to groggily drag himself away from certain death, his body growing brighter and brighter as the whirling wave of light was nearly upon him.

_Flare _raised his gauntlets, pulling himself together just enough to mount a hasty offense. He poured every drop of his Quirk into his shaky arms as he fired his _Photon Blasts _at speeds which _Gunhead_ had never seen before, his face twisted into a distressed and ireful snarl. The lenses flashed like strobe lights until they started to spew steam, the attacks simply being absorbed by the oncoming attack.

Unable to handle the continuous strain, the gauntlets exploded into a shower of broken glass and metal. As a final act of desperation, _Flare _smashed a closed fist against his chest emblem, raising a last-resort emergency barrier as the wall of light was within arm's reach. Aquamarine energy coalesced as a protective bubble around him—

—just in time for the massive wave to hit him head-on.

Time slowed down further. _Gunhead_ saw _Flare's_ body flicker; his suit's barrier and ablative coating failing in an instant with a distressing _pop. _The youth's frightened brown eyes met his own for one last time as what remained of his body dispersed through the ocean of white and pink light surging through the street, his final screams of despair going unheard through the roaring of the raw energy he had become one with.

Letting out a heartbroken scream of his own, the _Battle Hero _had no time to mourn before he was hit by the ensuing superheated shockwave, his body going limp and airborne as he crashed through the glass doors of a grocery store like a streaking fireball.

His trek did not stop there, for his momentum was plenty and there were many aisles and shelves in his path. _Gunhead _barely felt the pain as he punched right through each of them, food and miscellaneous items splattering everywhere in the process. Once he smashed through the last row, his body finally came to rest within a commercial refrigerator, the impact kicking every drop of air out of his burning lungs.

Through the chaos erupting around him, he was able to feel the unsettling but familiar crack of bones and organs likely rupturing as he partially crumbled onto the unforgiving floor, his ears still struck with the shrill scream erupting out of the creature's oversized mouth, his foggy mind frozen on the very moment _Flare _ceased to be.

Every inch of his skin was coated in liquid fire, and his tactical mind could only assume he had just been flash-burned with at least second-degree burns; the stink of smoke and burning meat left no doubt of it. The only reprieve he had at the moment was that a good portion of the stored ice-cold beverages had exploded over him upon impact, quickly dousing off the remaining flames licking at his vest and skin, lessening his misery somewhat. He could at least breathe through ragged breaths now.

Both his legs and arms were unresponsive, and he could feel his surroundings shaking themselves apart. He forced every bit of his willpower to crack a single swollen eye open. Above him, the damaged refrigerator teetered and wobbled with the tremors, its shape looming closer and closer to him until the last harness holding it up snapped. As it collapsed on him, everything went dark.

_Death Arms _was lucky enough to be out of the direct path of the blast, but his luck had run out the moment the ensuing expansive wave of inconceivable heat surged over his exposed body. Unlike his fellow hero, he had not landed within the protective enclosure of a building when the thermal shockwave hit him. He screamed like he hadn't before, and he did not stop until the surge of searing hell assaulting his skin fried his nerves to the point he felt nothing more. He was mildly aware of the large chunks of rubble and hot metal falling upon him as he felt his consciousness begin to drift away with the relentless pain.

* * *

Around the fallen heroes, the disconcerting and surreal sound of buildings, roads and the very street itself being torn asunder resonated across the city, with tremor alarms going off through many wards. Many cries of anguish and pain went unheard as innocent lives were vanquished in an instant, the beam showing no signs of slowing as it tore through the ward with little resistance.

The helicopter filming from above broke away as fast as it could, but it was unable to make it out unscathed. A mixture of shrapnel and wind shear tore off most of the rear rotor blades, and it started to spin out of control and out of sight, the trail of smoke disappearing over a building as they frantically sent out a radio SOS.

It might have felt like an eternity, but in reality, the chaos only lasted seconds. As abruptly as it started it came to an end, leaving only the dreadful sounds of falling debris, burning fires and the wind howling eerily through the desolate remains.

_Buu _stared in baffled confusion at the sputtering puffs of smoke and dying pink sparks coming off his mouth. His eyes then trailed the deep gouge spreading perhaps a good mile down the road. Every building, car or city structure in its path had been obliterated, the surface glowing cherry-red and spewing steam as they cooled down.

Halfway through his blast, his power flickered away into nothing, leaving only the leftover blast of air and heat in his belly to finish the deed. It made him feel so tired he found himself yawning again and again. What was wrong with _Buu?!_

Nonetheless, he was quite pleased with the result; he couldn't see punch-man, stick-man or gun-man anywhere after he sent them bye-bye. Inspecting his surroundings for a final time, he found little of interest to keep him there. This place had grown boring and not fun. He could not smell anything tasty nearby, and no one was bothering him anymore.

_Buu _shrugged with indifference, willing the few wisps of energy he could channel to take him aloft. In the distance—way beyond the damage he just caused—he could see many flashing red, blue and white lights approaching. Many many loud screaming sirens too. So many feet moving closer. He didn't feel like playing with them now. Maybe later when he felt better.

Coating his body in a wave of flaring and unstable ki, _Buu _launched himself at supersonic speeds upwards and away, his breakage of the speed barrier being instantaneous and sending one final thunderous _boom_ through the wasted portion of the ward. The few buildings that had barely survived the earthquake-like shaking crumbled upon themselves as the _Majin_ became a pinprick in the firmament.

* * *

A familiar and rather famous winged silhouette shot across the sky.

Pulling his crimson wings behind his body to improve his angle of attack and gain more speed, a smirking _Hawks_ head-dived towards the smoking buildings just ahead. He had a penchant for arriving in style and in the nick of time, and this time it would be no different. As bad as things sounded, he was certain everything was fine.

Those three could handle most perps with ease—they probably just didn't want to do all the hard work. Oh well, that meant more screen time for him. He couldn't wait to antagonize _Flashlight_—_Hawk's_ favorite nickname for _Flare—_the rookie had a hard time dealing with his antics.

Waving at the news helicopter lazily circling the scene, he then turned to regard the heroes out of sight not too far from him, flashing a cocky smirk as he did. "Sorry for being late to the party, fellas!" He hollered enthusiastically through the direct links to their radio—

—_huh, how odd._

Between the tall building outlines and narrow alleys, he noticed a few shimmering rays of light peeking through. Raising a brow behind his mask, the _Wing Hero _halted his descent to cautiously examine the strange event from afar, his Quirk-enhanced senses going haywire as the atmospheric pressure plummeted, only to rise just as abruptly as it dropped, and then keep rising to abnormal and downright painful levels.

_Hawks _hissed, raising his hands to his ears protectively as they rang and ached something fierce. This wasn't good. A change so drastic in pressure could only mean an exp—

_**Boom. **_The _Wing Hero's _thoughts and concerns were both interrupted and confirmed by a white and roseate surge of light tunneling through the street like a battering ram. The main overpressure wave then became visible as a cloudy ring, exploding outwards with enough force to send_ Hawks_ plummeting. "Holy shit!"

Thankfully for him, he had enough altitude to recover from the stall. Feeling uneasy flying in the gale-force winds, he dropped onto the closest rooftop. Upon touching down, his body seized up with growing apprehension and distress upon noticing two things:

First, the tunnel of destructive light had grown bright enough to briefly blind him while it tore through every obstacle in its way as if they were made out of mere tissue paper, their materials simply withering upwards like ash being cast aside to the wind. Second, a rarely heard and dire alarm went off in his phone as the destruction reached a crescendo.

Squinting while looking down at his device, his heart stopped. _Flare's _ID and GPS tracker disappeared in the blink of an eye. Not just low on a signal, it was _gone._ _Death Arm's _transmitter then flickered on and off. _Gunhead's _was active, and much farther to the other two. Nevertheless, each was broadcasting an emergency alarm of their own.

"_Mayday-mayday! We've lost steering! Please, someone, help!" _A panicked voice rang through the radio.

Shit. The helicopter was about to crash!

He tried to take off and render assistance, but it was impossible to stay aloft due to the turbulent tempest threatening to damage his wings. He had only climbed a few meters before he had to drop and dodge an influx of shrapnel, followed by a massive airborne broken billboard sign that almost cleaved him in half. A flurry of well-aimed razor-sharp feathers tore apart the remaining projectiles heading his way into harmless bits.

When the mile-long beam of destruction faltered and dissipated abruptly, _Hawks _thanked whatever deity was on their side for the small blessing. Taking off to the skies again, he was able to finally grasp the true breadth of damage the ward had taken. He was struck speechless as a sickening feeling settled deep in his stomach.

Dwellings and multi-story buildings of all shapes and sizes had collapsed or simply lost a portion of their mass as if a laser had shot right through them and outright vaporized them. Smaller buildings had simply ceased to exist as if they had been scooped for the whole span. If the reality of the situation hadn't hit him before, it sure did now.

_Countless people just died._

His head swiveled to the last GPS coordinates broadcast by his fellow Pro Heroes, where the culprit of this horror likely was. Beyond that, he could see the smoky trail from the crash-landing helicopter. He sighed in relief when he noticed it was safely secured off the side of a five-story apartment complex up by a thick blanket of wooden limbs; _Kamui Woods _had it under control.

Pushing his wings to their limits, he flew at neck break speeds towards the GPS waypoint, his heart pounding hard in his chest as he kept re-checking the status of _Flare _and _Death Arms. _

The former was still offline.

Nearing the epicenter of the damage, he had to pull back to an abrupt hover, apprehension swelling in his chest once he noticed the upward movement of something—no, _someone. _

Slowly rising through the fires and wreckage, a massive, plump, pink-skinned and purple caped stranger regarded their surroundings, completely oblivious to _Hawk's _presence above. They appeared to have previously stood at the starting point of the wide swath of carnage, smoke still spewing off their pudgy mouth as if they had chomped on a mouthful of burning coals.

They weren't flying either—they were _floating. _No wings were present whatsoever.

Just as the _Wing Hero_ had recovered from the surprise and was about to charge forward, the bizarre-looking man—or whatever it was—coated themselves in a tumultuous layer of flaming white light. Raising their chubby arms up and forward like a faux superhero, their shape suddenly blurred away as they let out a gleeful giggle, their body accelerating to mindnumbing speeds in less than a second.

They were so fast the seemingly random action unleashed a thunderous sonic boom, and _Hawks_ found himself struggling to remain aloft once more as he fought the fierce gusts of wind it generated.

Below him, he could hear more buildings crumbling apart.

_Was this a nightmare?_

* * *

_It must be a nightmare._

Hundreds of emergency personnel surrounded the extremely large and unforeseen disaster zone. Fire engines and EMTs from nearby wards had been called upon to assist, and thousands of gallons of water were being pumped into the countless blazes that were darkening a portion of Musutafu's skyline. _Backdraft _was pushing his Quirk to its very limits as he tried to manipulate every drop of spare water available from broken water mains and firetrucks into the wreckage.

A large assemblage of rescue-oriented specialists was on the scene; from _Power Loader_ to _Uwabami_ and even _The Wild, Wild Pussycats, _who had been in town in preparation for the upcoming U.A. training camp over the summer break.

With their combined assistance, _Hawks_ had been able to recover a grievously wounded and unconscious _Gunhead, _his burned body being buried beneath tons of steel and concrete upon the Villain's rough departure taking the structure down. The _Battle Hero_ had been lucky enough the building's inner structure had kept most of its tonnage from crushing him to a pulp.

_Death Arms _was more or less in a similar state, barely clinging to life with third-degree burns and piercing wounds coating most of his charred body. It was uncertain whether they'd make it through surgery yet, as their wounds were likely to be lethal if _Recovery Girl _attempted to outright use her healing Quirk in their current state. _The Youthful Heroine _was pushing her Quirk to her very limits at the scene, doing her best to assist the wounded for as long as she physically could.

Unfortunately, they had been unable to find any signs of _Flare. _No GPS transponder, no suit nor body parts remained. _Hound Dog _couldn't even trace his scent; he was gone.

The mood was downright somber as civilian rescues were well on the way, but so far, the outcomes for those within the main blast radius appeared grim. No survivors _or _bodies were found within thirty feet on each side of the broadening gouge, where the sheer amount of heat simply melted everything—from metal to asphalt and concrete—into slag. Although the area had been evacuated per protocol, the blast spread forth much further than the locked-down zone imposed by the Police Force.

Much further.

Beyond the immolated zone, the few that did survive were lucky enough to possess Quirks that saved them from the worst of it, but not wholly unscathed. Further away the survivors were plenty, but the rescuer and Pro Heroe's largest hurdle was to dig through the collapsed buildings and fires before it was too late for them.

Not long after the incident unfolded, an urgent alert was broadcast through Musutafu and other nearby cities in Japan warning them of the rampaging Villain. Without any leads regarding their escape or scope of their abilities, they could only hope whoever encountered them next was ready and capable of dealing with them swiftly.

Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi stood impatiently at the very edge of the downward slope burned into the street by the blast, shoulders tense and eyes set grimly as he stared at the wide swath of devastation, untold death, and misery. Beside him, Detective Tanema was currently interviewing the exhausted and rattled officers and _FRU _members that had been present in the incident, gathering their statements and any helpful details about the suspect. It would be perhaps days or even weeks before they could interview _Death Arms _and _Gunhead _for vital combat information about their enemy—that is if they made it through the operating table. _Hawks _had provided some insight, but his encounter had been brief and fleeting.

So far, the Villain's unique appearance and Quirk did not hit any matches in the Hero Network or Police Force Database. Plain and simple, they did not exist in their systems. To be able to take down a _First Response Unit,_ a rookie _and _two proficient and very experienced Pro Heroes with such appalling ease...it was concerning, to say the least, and it shouldn't be possible for them to _not_ be publicly known.

The way they wreaked havoc upon their city and citizens on a whim at this scale ...they were evil—and alarmingly powerful. Worst of all was the fact they had likely displayed multiple Quirks, complicating things further and sending everything down a rabbit hole he did not want to follow. Flight, enhanced strength, incredible regeneration, _and_ devastating emitter-type energy control. Was there a plausible _single _Quirk capable of producing all of these effects?

Fat chance.

Was this bastard somehow connected to..._him? _They'd have to get Toshinori involved at once. Unfortunately for them all, the Symbol of Peace was busy on I-Island attending I-Expo. For some reason, he wasn't responding to any calls at the moment either; they were going straight to voicemail.

Actually, _all _calls routed to I-Island or anyone attending the event did not go through. A sizable group of heroes was at the event and none could be reached.

"What's going on, Toshinori?" He whispered to himself, trying hard to not worry about his friend or what could be unfolding on the island. Sighing, he turned back towards the survivors, trying his best to avoid the massive destruction looming nearby. He had his work cut out for him here.

Everything would be fine...right?

* * *

**Central Tower**

**[ I-Island ]**

Izuku Midoriya stared at the live broadcast playing on his cellphone, eyes distant and mouth agape, tears welling up and threatening to spill over. Behind him, his fellow friends and classmates huddled around him, stuck in a similar state of shock and bewilderment.

Their trip to I-Island had been a blast. The man-made island was a dream for both adventurers and nerds alike, and there was so much to do there. After spending a portion of the day enjoying themselves, the group went their separate ways, planning to eventually meet up to go to the private party, all thanks to Melissa's timely invitations.

In typical Izuku fashion, he had lost himself talking to his new friend, who made his heart flutter something crazy as they talked about every subject they loved. They had so many things in common it was ridiculous, even down to their Quirkless nature. She had been nice enough to gift him an old support item she had created—the _Full Gauntlet—_and he couldn't wait to put it to the test. He was so tired of hurting himself every time he tried to use _Full Cowl_.

Thanks to Iida's dramatic call chiding them about their potential tardiness, they were able to make it to the meet-up just in time.

Then _this _happened.

His phone was set-up with a robust newsfeed connected to most of Musutafu's networks and social media, he had explained to them with excessive technical details. When the device went off with a new live feed from a news helicopter flying over the city, they had been excited to watch the strange pink criminal get taken down quickly before heading out to the party. After all, it was _Gunhead, Death Arms _and _Flare _engaging them. Apparently, the perp had taken down a full _FRU _team without a problem. They'd teach 'em a lesson!

Happy cheering turned to apprehensive silence as the situation went downhill quickly, with the Villain appearing to resist and land a good amount of painful hits on both _Gunhead_ and _Death Arms, _even after they were _rammed through_ a building and shot point-blank. For a moment things were looking up, as _Death Arms _seemingly dealt a crippling blow with a large street pole, sending the fat pink Villain smashing into an upturned car, their body spread out like melted gum by the force of impact.

Suddenly, the vehicle blew up with the Villain still helplessly stunned and stuck on it. They all had gasped at the brutal and mentally scarring sight; its body practically exploded and fell apart into tiny pink blobs.

They were even more shocked to see the Villain pull themselves together with little effort right after. Even their _clothes_ mended themselves!

Izuku experienced the strongest reaction of them all; a creeping and nasty sense of deja-vu and nausea seeping in, thinking back to his failed attempts at taking down that nasty Sludge Villain that had kidnapped Bakugo. Would the Sludge Villain survive an explosive blast of that magnitude? Being punched into a mist was one thing, fire damage was another—

Dread then crawled into his gut when he noticed the large pink Villain bloat up, their mouth shimmering maliciously. What was he going to do—

Uraraka's horrified scream echoed through the room as she called out _Gunhead's _name. A tunnel of malevolent swirling light had surged out of the Villain's mouth, blasting towards the surprised heroes. The camera was overwhelmed by the brightness before they could see the aftermath, but it was painfully obvious the streets were being torn asunder judging by the deep roar threatening to ruin Izuku's cellphone speakers.

Immediately after, something slammed into the helicopter, breaking a vital system and sending it spiraling out of control, with dire alarms blaring in the background. As the men inside screamed for help, the spinning footage grew ever-closer to the ground until white noise was all that remained, their broadcast going offline.

After a brief lapse in the live footage and continuous hushed murmurs from the aspiring heroes, another helicopter took to the air and the broadcast went back online. The carnage being shown through the wide lenses was unreal and crippling. Large fires spread out of the surrounding areas, the ward missing a portion of its dwellings and road system in a straight line.

"Oh my God..." Momo and Jiro had whispered in unison. Behind them, Todoroki kept a cool and neutral facade, but his eyes betrayed the turmoil brewing inside. Mineta was pacing around erratically, rambling to Kaminari in unintelligible, frenzied nonsense. Iida looked conflicted, his body was frozen stiff as a board while his analytical mind struggled to process what had just unfolded.

Midoriya himself couldn't speak, his lower lip quivering. It reminded him a bit too much of the incredible power _All Might _could unleash at a moment's notice.

This was bad.

"I hope they're okay..." Uraraka said bleakly, trying hard not to break down. Barely anything remained of the surroundings where they assumed the heroes had last been seen.

"No worries!" Iida's skin regained its color as he found an opportunity to assist. He jumped into the fray, his eyes fierce with determination, his arms waved around in that funny robot-like manner of his. He was unwilling to let his friends suffer. "They are formidable Heroes. Rest assured, no mere Villain would be able to take them down!"

"I-I hope you're right, Iida," Izuku said doubtfully, wiping off the excess tears and snot threatening to run down his nose. The gears in his mind were going full throttle as he tried to gauge the power unleashed in such short notice and the Quirk behind it, finding some solace in trying to grasp the mechanics of what had unfolded. "Wha-whatever t-that blast was, it had an in-incredible energy output, almost laser-like. Must have been a m-mixture of heat and some sort of emitter energy to produce so-so much damage. If-if it was—"

His geeky rambling was interrupted by the room suddenly darkening around them, emergency red lights taking over the sterile white lighting as a shrill klaxon went off. Large built-in screens lit up with an ominous-looking red background, the word "warning" highlighted in bold letters.

"_This is an announcement from the I-Island Security System._**"** A monotonous, automated female voice called out through the speakers. _"We have received a report that an explosive device was discovered somewhere on the I-Expo grounds. I-Island will now be in High-Alert. Your safety is our top priority—"_

Blast shutters engaged from the top of the large glass windows, quickly trapping them in place as similar systems closed off the exit doors and elevators. Now Izuku could see how I-Island's security system was comparable to those employed in _Tartarus. _Glancing down at his cellphone, the device had lost all signal the moment the lockdown went off. He took a deep breath, turning to face Melissa, who appeared to be seriously troubled by the event and was muttering to herself.

It sounded like they had their problems to deal with now... he just hoped everyone was okay back in Musutafu without them...and most of all, without _All Might._

* * *

Thousands of feet above Musutafu, ominous clouds were beginning to gather. A storm was brewing, although it was nothing compared to the one unleashed upon this world moments ago.

Unseen by everyone below, the ever-thickening cloudy cover exploded outwards with sizable _Buu-_sized perforations, the troubled _Majin_ launching himself away from this place and towards the unknown, far away from the annoying people. Why did they have to ruin everything? Stupid gun-man, he'd get candy somewhere else!

The landscape changed swiftly as _Buu_ continued to gain speed, and soon enough he was flying over looming mountains and eventually a large blue body of water that spread out as far as his eyes could see. His mood lightened considerably as he felt the powerful, cool winds tickle his body, eliciting a small snicker and whoop from him.

He couldn't wait to eat and sleep!

* * *

**Air Force Space Command**

**-Cheyenne Mountain Complex-**

**[ United States of America ]**

Today was a rather uneventful day so far, just like the previous one and every single day before it. During times of peace and minimal international tensions, it was a boring and straightforward endeavor for the country's remaining military forces. Even as some branches and their respective roles were eliminated with the meteoric rise of Pro Heroes and Quirks, the Air Force still played a vital part serving as the first line of defense against international threats.

After all, Pro Heroes couldn't be _everywhere _at once nor could the track every square mile of airspace. For this reason, the base remained ever-vigilant and at the ready for any airborne danger that could arise at a moment's notice.

The sun was starting its slow crawl towards the cloudy horizon beyond the mountainous range that nested the resilient bunker, the sweltering heat finally ramping down somewhat. Every instrument room deep within the base was deathly quiet, the only noise audible being the pleasant hum of dozens of cooling fans.

That is until an alert went off on one of the early warning and control systems.

The operator manning the console stiffened, the tiredness marring his young features disappearing as his eyes focused on the faint signature pinging off erratically on one of their state-of-the-art sea-based X-radars. Due to the target's size, incredibly fast movement, and minimal heat signature, it was almost passed off as background noise or a glitch in the system. Unable to ascertain its source, the alert was forwarded to him for further scrutiny.

Cranking up the sensor output in its general direction on the Pacific Ocean, he was then able to verify it was no glitch.

"What in the heck are you?" He muttered, wide-eyed and needing to do a double-take; whatever it was, it was shifting its direction in the Pacific Ocean at random intervals while traveling at speeds_...beyond_ _Mach 3. _That couldn't be right. There was little reasoning as its speed increased and decreased at a moment's notice.

Most important of all, it was inevitably heading straight for the mainland with no attempts at communication or broadcasting an ID.

Instantly labeled as a potential airborne threat, protocols were followed swiftly.

Within minutes, the engines of three _F-35 Lightning II_ jets roared to life, their overly eager pilots ready for anything as the deadly war machines spooled up in the runway. Taking off towards the unknown object to intercept, a burst of concentric white rings exploded out of their tail-ends as they broke through the speed barrier, their shrinking outlines barely visible in the sky moments later.

En-route to the unidentified target, the trio had to constantly adjust their heading to match the absolutely nonsensical pattern it was following at such speeds, which had thankfully dropped to a pursuable _Mach 1 _for now. No large airplane could deal with the G-forces involved in such maneuvers. Could it be a hijacked fighter jet or a foreign enemy group? It'd be a death sentence for a single one to dare and invade their airspace.

Red flags abound.

As they got within viable communication range, the lead fighter—_Captain_ _A. Jenkins—_engaged the wide-band radio, his tone grave and assertive as the small group spread out to cautiously approach from the sides before nearing visual range. "_Unidentified aircraft. This is the United States Air Force; you have been intercepted. You are unlawfully entering American airspace. You have failed to acknowledge traffic control hails numerous times. Please acknowledge and identify yourself or turn around at once!_"

Radio silence. No white noise or signs of comm failure. The pilots frowned behind their helmets as the blip turned aggressively once more, forcing them to readjust accordingly, watchful to remain out of its potential firing range as they approached it in a wide flanking pattern.

Jenkins hailed them a second time. Again, no response.

A glove tightened with unease around the control stick, his eyes drifting to the weapon switches. "_Unidentified aircraft, this is your third and final warning. You have unlawfully entered American airspace! Identify yourself immediately or you will be shot down!_"

"This isn't right," The pilot flanking on the right—his tag reading _N. Hadwell—_buzzed in, his voice laced with confusion as he shared the baffling sensor data with his team. "Hi-res radar's not pinging the target like an aircraft now. No heat signature either on IR, it can barely track it."

"We'll find out in a sec. Close in now." Jenkins ordered steadily, his glower deepening as they approached visual range with a small burst of afterburner speed. They could see no identifiable gleam of steel nor the flash of wing-mounted anti-collision lights anywhere. A stealth craft, perhaps?

Before they knew it, the blip in their radar flickered off only to appear _right over them_, setting off shrill proximity alarms in their consoles. The men had no time to voice their alarm, fully focusing on pursuing extreme evasive maneuvers instead as a rounded, _squealing_ pink blur shot perhaps a dozen meters above the closest two fighters, its incredible speed sending shudders of turbulence through the jets.

"Shit! What was_ that_?" The other pilot close to Jenkins—his tag reading _M. Thomas—_yelled in alarm as he stabilized his wavering craft.

Jenkins cursed under his breath as he navigated through the turbulence, ensuring to maintain his cool through this unexpected and dangerous development. "Doesn't matter! Pursue at_ full power_!" Twisting up and to the side sharply, the three _F-35's _were forced to engage their afterburners at maximum output to keep up with the ridiculously fast target. It was in times like this that he missed flying the much nimbler and speedier _F-22 Raptors. _

Slowly but surely they managed to catch up to the erratic unknown, which appeared to slow down and maintain a steady straight path once it noticed their continued chase and presence. Upon closer inspection—

_...what?_

"Hey Thomas, Hadwell," Jenkins called out, his tone borderline incredulous. "Do you see what I'm seeing?" He did not wait for a response. "_Jenkins to __Command_, the target is...a single person. They're_ flying_, likely through Quirk usage. Target's skin is pink from head to toe and it looks like they're wearing a damn cape."

Yep, full-blown incredulous now.

They were now close enough to see their target shift their chubby head—which had a strange tentacle above it—their way as if it had heard them. _"**Leave Buu alone!**" _It screeched loud enough it resonated through the airtight cabins. Was that a threat?

Jenkins felt an inexplicable shudder run down his spine just by watching them. Gritting his teeth, he took in a deep breath, casting aside the dreadful feelings trying to pile up in his chest.

"_Acknowledged," _Command responded after a brief pause, their voice crisp and unflinching. "_They're in violation of international Quirk Usage treaties and remain unidentified in American waters. Per Air Force and NORAD regulations, proceed with capture or takedown. Support VTOL en-route for retrieval shortly."_

"Understood. Switching to capture device." Jenkins replied, shaking his head to clear his thoughts as he flipped the correct switch on the broad console. Hadwell and Thomas responded with target confirmations. "Fire at will,"

Each jet released a small, bulbous projectile, their tail ends lighting up as they honed in on the large humanoid. The payload proceeded to explode on impact, spreading out a flexible bubble-like material over them as they let out a yelp of surprise, a metallic rope running back to the underbelly of each jet where a winch held the devices in place.

Burdened by the capture netting, the massive pink creature grunted, forcing themselves to keep moving forward in challenge.

Even with a portion of their jet's thrust put into slowing the target down, it wasn't enough. To avoid stalling, the trio were forced to redirect the totality of the engine's thrust into their full hover mode, their noses lifting upward as they did. Vents opened above and below their frames, spewing the redirected exhaust through them to remain aloft, their angles bringing forth the highest level of pull against the stubborn freak.

It still wasn't enough! The pink bastard's movement was slowed to a crawl, but they still managed to pull the three powerful jets forward. Having no other option, the pilots engaged the electrical charges within the nets, eliciting shrieks from the pink blob as they spasmed, flashes of electricity arcing and spreading through their body.

_That _put an end to the struggle.

Oddly enough, even after being shocked, the damn thing still remained aloft on their own power, a fact that kept the pilots wary.

"_Do not move or you will get shocked again,_" Jenkin's warning echoed through.

"Relax boss. We got 'em." The confident pilot hovering closest to _Buu_—Thomas—reassured him through the comms. "That voltage could knock out a damn gorilla. They ain't awake."

The two underlings chuckled.

Jenkins didn't, still feeling uneasy about the whole ordeal. They were right, though. Maybe he was looking too much into it. Yeah, that's it. "Alright, let's reel 'em up and go home." He said, his mood improving considerably after seeing there were no more visible attempts to escape or resist the capture devices. Dealing with a single person via aircraft was an unpleasant experience. Even more so if it was dealing with Quirk users. This wasn't the crap the Air Force was meant to be doing.

Feeling quite accomplished, the trio eagerly engaged their winches to pull the target up and rendezvous with the approaching recovery vessel better suited to secure the target—

—or tried to, for the capture bubble then _snapped, _a pair of meaty, yellow gloves punching right through the tough material like sharp blades. A pink, rotund head popped out next, and it did not look pleased one bit.

_Buu _was now pouting as smoke spread through his lightly burnt vest and pants from the electrical shock. A faint Kiai wave blew away most of the sticky restraints stuck on his body. He sighted the first offending metal bird, tracing the winch line still partially attached to him. Wrapping the steel wire around his right glove, he proceeded to give it a _light tug._

Reinforced steel screamed in protest and gave way like wet tissue, electronic innards, bolts and framework spewing out of the newly made gouge in the STOVL aircraft as if it were a birthday pinata. The large frontal fan responsible for its hover capabilities was warped beyond repair as the winch ripped through it, its blades falling apart as it went out in a blaze of shrapnel and fire.

Thomas let out a shout of alarm, unable to regain control of the plummeting, burning jet. No matter what he tried, the systems screeched out catastrophic engine failures, forcing him to eject out of the crippled _F-35_ just in time before the multi-million dollar aircraft went off in a blaze of ignited jet fuel.

"_Buu _like fireworks!" The Majin exclaimed, clapping in amusement as he witnessed the fiery display of military destruction.

Scrambling to action, the other two aircraft immediately disengaged their winches to avoid a similar fate upon noticing they had the freak's undivided attention now. Their rear exhausts flared up as they transitioned to normal flight while they relocated to a safe distance to engage from.

Said target appeared to be idly floating by, curious about their next move, displaying little to no fear considering he was facing some of the Western's most deadly war machines head-on. They were smirking too!

Pissed and frustrated beyond relief at the unexpected loss and blatant flippancy, Jenkins toggled his active weaponry away from non-lethal, his only relief at the moment was that he got to see his underling ejecting safely out of the burning craft. The moment this thing laid a hand on them all bets were off. _This _was why he did not like these stupid pacifistic protocols in the first place; they never ended well and now he'd have to explain how he lost a damn _F-35 _to a fat, pink, _caped _gumball. What a damned embarrassment!

This bastard was good as dead. "Mark target hostile and shred the fucker!" Jenkins snarled through grit teeth.

Meanwhile, what remained of _Buu's _brewing irritation waned as his childlike curiosity overtook it, the smoke coming off his damaged clothes fading as they mended themselves. The fireworks were worth it! He then raised a gloved hand to his round chin, his mind whirring in wonder upon noticing a small side port sliding open near the fuselage of each of the remaining hovering machines. What were the metal birds doing? Maybe more shiny firewor—

Within said ports, two sets of barrels rapidly spooled up to unleash hellfire in the form of relentless 25mm rounds, a portion of the jet's front ends disappearing through the resulting cloud of fire, tracers and spent gunpowder spewing out of each of the GAU-22/A Gatling Guns. _Buu's _mouth snapped open in surprise as he felt the rounds embed themselves into his body with impunity. He howled, pain blossoming throughout his torso as the shells seared the outer layers of his flesh around every impact site until his body was completely lost within the thickening smoke.

In a matter of seconds, the two pilots had thrown over 200 rounds into the thing's bulbous body. Feeling certain the deed was done, the duo let go of their triggers, sighing in relief as they observed the thickening cloud of dark smoke and pulverized pink mist where the hostile once floated.

_Nothing could survive that unscathed._

How wrong they were.

"Shit shit shit!" A startled Hadwell shouted, noticing a burst of pink movement out of the smoke, flying straight towards him. With a surge of panic, he depressed the trigger again, letting another hail of 25mm rounds downrange into the approaching disfigured behemoth, who appeared to be healing incredibly quickly from being turned into Swiss cheese moments prior.

_Buu's _face and chest kept being torn apart, and through each regenerated visage, a playful and wicked smirk was visible to the terrified pilot.

Panicking at the disturbing sight—and gravely aware of the imminent danger he was in—Hadwell jolted the stick hard to send his _F-35_ into a sideways dip. The vessel responded instantaneously, saving him from a headlong charge by a few inches as its engines transitioned back into regular flight mode. He eyed the airspeed indicator—it was taking too long to go back into full throttle!

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the pink blob give chase. Then they disappeared—

Damn it! Where the hell did it go?!

"_Byebye!_" Hadwell heard the cheery, high-pitched voice in front of him and his heart ground to a halt. Everything around him slowed down as he swiveled his head towards the voice, and he was horrified to see the bastard happily standing close to the jet's nose, one pudgy arm happily waving at him while the other was outstretched his way in the shape of a hook.

Before he could perform evasive maneuvers, _B__uu's_ glove dug into the fuselage by the side of the cockpit, harmlessly shearing a good half-inch of protective steel off. However, as the jet's body broadened into the vulnerable air intake and wing, the effects were devastating and instantaneous. Unyielding _Buu _met steel, and inch by inch the engine was crushed into itself, the compressor and spinning blades shredding themselves apart to burst into flames upon breaching the fuel injectors.

Hadwell's trembling hands had already pulled on the ejection handle when the jet's main fuel tank was compromised by the accruing damage. Above him, the windshield was automatically released to let him eject out of the time bomb safely. The propellant under the seat had only launched him a few feet away before his pained screams rattled the comms, his body getting engulfed in the fierce fireball as his _F-35 _burst into budding flames. Unlike Thomas' aircraft, his ordnance had been active, making it subsequently go off in escalating explosions that completely immolated everything in a thirty-foot radius, including the half of _Buu _directly exposed to it.

What little remained of the slagged jet slowly drifted down over the deceivingly calm Pacific Ocean.

"Yay! More firework! More!" _Buu_ cheered upon being whole once more, his puffy cheeks rounding up as he grinned, eyes still peeled towards the falling fireball.

Inside the shaken and outright furious Captain's cockpit, the missile targeting systems locked on with a warbled beep of confirmation. In a matter of seconds, things had gone completely FUBAR. This fucker _was _going down! Sending his jet into a backward scramble to gain further distance from the bastard before firing, his eyes traced the falling debris as multiple warnings went off regarding his comrade's disappearance from radar.

There was no doubt; Hadwell did not make it. If his seat had ejected it got caught in the massive explosion. Jenkins was livid and on the warpath. "Alright, you piece of shit. Go to hell!" He roared, his voice promising violence and retribution as he squeezed the missile release trigger.

With the click of unraveling latches deep in the craft's guts, the payload beneath each wing came to life as four 300 pound _AIM-120 AMRAAM_ missiles went online, the burning propellant glowing blue as they screamed out and away with righteous fury. The ordnance rapidly accelerated to near _Mach 4 _speeds as it streaked towards _Buu_—

—who turned just in time to catch the closest one by its base, its cylindrical body crunching away under his glove, making the missile's propulsion system sputter away into puffs of smoke.

Jenkin's eyes widened in horror. _Buu _eyed the missile's smoking end with mild interest as if it were a mere stick, his attention completely focused on it and completely missing the second, third and fourth ones arching into his midsection—

_**Boom.**_

Another cloud of pure hellfire blossomed mid-air, the missile's high-yield explosives going off together and turning the bastard into mush, little blobs of incinerated pink tissue drizzling everywhere through the growing cloud of ashy smoke.

Payback was a bitch. Jenkins breathed out, his shoulders slumping as his _F-35 _maintained its steady hover. "_Command, the _target has been neutralized. We got one casualty and an ejecting pilot on the water. We...need recovery..."

His voice trailed off as his eyes caught movement through the dissipating smoke. Was that...n-no damn way...

_Buu _stared at the metal bird that hurt him. Most of his right arm had been blown off as the stick exploded on it, leaving nothing but a charred nub at his elbow. The other sticks that plowed right into his midsection had blasted off most of his gut and upper body, the final one taking a leg. He tried to resist the damage but his body refused to comply, simply breaking apart when he was hurt. He was starting to see red again and he did not like it! They burned him and he really, really hated it!

"Metal bird hurt _Buu..._now you go bye-bye!" He shrieked at the hovering jet, his stout arm and hand finally regrowing so he could jab an accusing finger their way.

"Fuck me!" Jenkins cried out, jolting his fighter out and away. This just turned into a damn suicide mission. Just as he performed the sharp turn, he unleashed every single locked-on missile in his arsenal, their path carefully set in a way that would serve as a distraction during his retreat...hopefully.

_Buu _was having none of it. He launched himself forward with a thunderous shockwave of ki, clapping his large hands together to send a Kiai wave towards the ordnance screaming his way. Both missiles going straight at him crumpled with the force, their warheads detonating far too early. _Buu _shot right through the fire, his eyes set on the bailing metal bird and eyeing the other four fire sticks following his every move. The metal bird was _really _trying to fly fast now. It didn't want to turn into fireworks, but _Buu _would make it!

Jenkins struggled to focus on his breathing after sending a request for air support, an action that would put the Air Force on high alert. They...they would...

His vision and thoughts started to blur, his helmet fogging up with his fast breathing. Everything said through comms was muffled. Behind him, the pink bastard kept with his pace, jeering and laughing maniacally, very aware of the fact Jenkins couldn't outrun them. The missiles had been swatted aside and his flares didn't do shit. As agile as his jet was, this fat bastard was somehow faster and nimbler!

No, he couldn't hyperventilate now. For Christ's sake, he was a Captain! Another surge of adrenaline cleared his mind. Everything would be fine. Full battle-ready squadrons would be here soon. This bastard would face the might of the Air Force and Pro Heroes would be at the ready, and he'd be back home in no time—

Or not. At that moment, _Buu _decided he was done with the chasing game. His rotund body flared up with energy as he let out an excited whoop, his silhouette blurring into nothing with the intense burst in speed. In less than a second, his head and upper body had torn through the whole jet like a battering ram, and Jenkins had but a moment to scream in abject terror as he heard a high-pitched _"Bye-bye!"_ before the world went white with indescribable pain.

_Buu's _discombobulated body and mangled head resurfaced through the fierce explosion of jet fuel and melting steel, and it took him a good while to regather his bearings this time, the regeneration cycle taking a greater toll than usual. His distended, warped arms were stuck in funny ways close to his head and he felt even sleepier. Upon noticing the burning wreckage, he sighed glumly, aware the fun was over. It was worth hurting for a bit to see those go boom-boom. "Angry metal bird so weak. _Buu_ like firework though!"

Sill knocked silly, he floated next to the fading smoke, unsure as to what to do next. He spun around, and all he could see was water. So much water.

_There. _He squinted hard, eyeing a curious thin but fading cloud pattern thousands of feet above him. Three very precise cloudy trails went on far into the horizon. It took his brain some time until the cogs within resumed their slow chugging along.

Did the metal toys come from there? If so, there was sure to be food nearby and a place to nap! And more fireworks!

"_Buu _so so smart," He announced proudly, stabbing at the side of his head for emphasis.

With a joyous hurrah, Buu head dived sharply towards the ocean, only halting his descent as he neared the endless body of saltwater. Beneath his broad belly, unseen fields of energy came to life and pushed down upon the calm ocean, the immense force imposed upon the water slicing a channel open ahead of his path, with massive fifteen-foot waves surging out and away in his wake.

The faint contrails of the jets had almost faded to nothing after a few minutes of tracking them.

It didn't matter anymore though; he could now see a landmass that began to overtake most of the horizon.

_Buu's_ eyes cracked open, a mischievous cackle echoing through the open sea as he made landfall upon _Monterey Bay, California_.

* * *

**There we go! I can't believe I've written this much in the last week. I should have another chapter for this up by Sunday hopefully if I don't have too much work. Once that chapter is done, I'll be devoting myself full-time once more to Against All Odds. Losing that chapter was a bummer but it's coming along. This is a great stress reliever.**

**Again, I hope everyone understands this isn't focusing on precise power levels or end of the world in one chapter. This isn't the typical curbstomp and I'm enjoying taking a different path with it. I don't want everyone to die at one time and I want to explore the effects as this unfolds, especially with everyone underestimating the threat. This will be an unraveling mess and I'm not sure how things will end up for everyone. They're dealing with a temporarily weakened and less violent Buu, so we'll see how things turn around as his power steadily skyrockets. We'll also find out what humanity will do to try and stop him. Still trying to figure out how to bring the U.A. gang into it soon.**

**Until next time!**


	4. California Dreamin'

**The Buu Incident**

* * *

**CHAPTER 4: CALIFORNIA DREAMIN'**

* * *

**-Rio Del Mar beach-**

**[ California ]**

There was nothing else in California like Monterey Bay. Boasting over 30 miles of mostly uninterrupted and pristine coastline, its mesmerizing blue waters practically called out to every adventurous soul in the Golden State. The weather was fantastic this afternoon: clear skies, minimal rip currents, and a pleasant breeze. It _was _hot, but not exceedingly so—it was one of those days where you just _had_ to get in the water or let the day go by while relaxing on the sand.

For these reasons, the public had flocked to Rio Del Mar beach in larger numbers than average for the season. Oblivious to the unfolding incident overseas, happy chatter continued to resonate throughout the bay. The satisfying smell of burning charcoal and sizzling meats on portable grills was unmistakable. A well-aged fisherman sat over at the pier, trying his best to catch a nice meal. Families laughed, friends shared stories and life went on—

A tiny hand dropped a toy shovel in the sand.

"Mommy, what's that?" The young boy—no older than 5 perhaps—asked in alarm, a distant and strange splash that produced a low-frequency hum over the otherwise calm ocean sending red flags through his Quirk-enhanced senses.

His mother didn't look up from her favorite magazine as she lazily flicked through another page, opting to ruffle his spiky hair as she tried to placate his concern. "Probably some kids playing. Just keep working on your castle, sweetie."

That wasn't it. He peeked back and the waves were getting larger. Scarier. Louder.

Shaking his head, he tugged at her arm to get her attention, his ears ringing and his little heart pounding like crazy as he tracked the growing waterborne disturbance. His feet accidentally trampled his elaborate sandcastle apart as he moved closer to her—he didn't care about playing anymore. "But mommy...it—it's coming this way and it's making _big_ waves!"

His urgent and fearful tone made her look up with the slightest hint of worry. As she did, she caught a glimpse of the ocean parting ways as if being sliced open with a house-sized knife. A few others in the water had stopped what they were doing to stare at the distant commotion which wasn't so distant anymore, opting to retreat to the shore as a sense of dread crept through them. Was it a tsunami? Her mind drifted to her fear-struck son as her instincts took over.

By the time she sprung to action, it was already too late. For the briefest of moments, the sun was blotted out as a large pink entity zoomed by uncomfortably close to them all, producing what sounded like a shrieky and juvenile "_wheee"_ as they flexed a minute portion of their powers to defy physics and instantly alter their trajectory to bounce skyward.

She could have sworn she saw a purple cape rippling before it blurred away.

Everything was eerily calm and quiet for fractions of a second, the raw energy discharged above the beach forming a swirling ring of heavily displaced air and moisture.

The monstrous hyper-compressed downburst then plunged like lightning and it spared nothing.

_Whoosh_**_-boom. _**Chaos erupted throughout the beach as the vicious thunderclap sundered it with unrivaled fury, its power swirling and worsening as it mingled with the delayed shockwave coming in from the Pacific Ocean.

She shouted her son's name as she was blinded by the sand and rocks relentlessly pelting and cutting at her face. Facing tornadic winds, her body was sent aloft, twisting and bouncing painfully through it all until she crashed into the raging ocean. Her son's cries for help went unheard through the roar of water and terrified shouts from fellow beachgoers facing a similar fate, their defenseless forms getting launched dozens of feet away and battered by chairs, umbrellas and other assorted equipment on the beach.

Facing forces it wasn't designed to handle, the aging Seacliff Pier shattered and went airborne, its reinforced structure becoming a lethal cloud of aerial shrapnel. The remains of the broken and sunken concrete tanker SS_ Palo Alto _didn't fare much better. With their violent upheaval, enormous mounds of sand and deadly debris blew away, spiraling upwards and into small waterspouts as they hit the oncoming rush of water and hot air.

Everything in an eighty-foot radius was completely torn off the shore, leaving a gouge on the beach itself devoid of dirt and sand as the larger and much slower tidal swell surged inland. The beachgoers further from the scene scrambled away from the rushing waters in a panic, doing their best to help those that were randomly falling back to the ground as the windy tempest subsided.

Those with useful Quirks did their best to help, but it just wasn't enough.

Frantic calls poured into the American Hero Network, and Pro Heroes rushed to the rescue.

* * *

**-Santa Cruz-**

**[ California ]**

A gruff man with intrinsic antisocial tendencies stirred awake, sharp amber eyes snapping open as his wait on the raggedy and well-shaded rooftop serving as his abode came to an early end. His radio was abuzz with conflicting and worrisome reports coming from Rio Del Mar beach.

An airborne object unleashing a tsunami and windstorm?! It sounded like a heinous Villain that needed to be taught a lesson. It'd take him a few minutes to get to the small community at top speed. Stretching the stiff muscles in his limbs, he readied to dash towards the beach and render assistance—

—until his heightened senses went haywire. Not a moment sooner he caught the unearthly scent of _something _large and pink as it _flew _by, its great traveling speed setting off a violent wave of gusty wind in its wake.

Every honed instinct screamed 'danger' and for him to give chase, so he did.

An animalistic howl rumbled through the rooftop as his body transformed, his human features twisting and changing with wet snaps as he grew in size into a towering beast, fully embracing his powerful Quirk and the adrenaline rush that ensued.

He sniffed the air, locking onto the sickeningly sweet and devilish stench of his quarry. They were not too far off.

Coiling his powerful leg muscles, he leaped off the roof and into the next in a single bound.

The hunt had just begun.

* * *

Flying hundreds of feet over the unraveling chaos, Buu was feeling quite giddy watching all the people run and scream in a senseless fashion as the wind battered them and the churning water rushed inland. They always acted like that when he was around and it was so much fun.

Growing bored with the spectacle rather quickly, he resumed his speedy flight with no set destination in mind, his senses wholly focused on finding what he desired the most. Everything here looked different compared to that place he had woken up at not too long ago. Even the air itself _felt_ different. This place was extremely large and flat, and there were so many interesting areas for him to eventually explore. It was just a matter of—

Buu widened his stance, the blazing aura around him exploding forward into turbulent fading wisps as he put on the brakes mid-air, his cape fluttering wildly in the aerial tumult. The folds where his nose should have been twitched rhythmically, his antenna dancing back and forth as he tracked the tantalizing scent that put him into a trance.

There! _Tasty sweets!_

The building was large, blocky and painted a vibrant blue, the words _'Bayside Bakery'_ brightly and craftily emblazoned around giant cupcakes on a flashing billboard above the structure. Countless roof-mounted exhaust fans wafted the wonderful aroma his way through the coastal breeze.

"Yum yum!" Buu beamed, licking his lips expectantly as he recklessly head-dived straight into the middle of the busy street to land with a thunderous _thump_, his eyes dead set on the bakery doors—

A large cargo van heading his way was unable to swerve or brake in time with his sudden appearance. The driver yelped when he saw the pink humanoid land before him, fear gripping his heart as he braced for the worst.

_**Crash. **_

Most of the van's front end collapsed into itself like an accordion upon hitting Buu's rippling yet unyielding form. A portion of the wreckage sank into the Majin's rubbery flesh, harmlessly dispersing the inertia and inadvertently saving the driver's life—at least for a fleeting moment. Every activity in the city block halted with the commotion, the screeching of braking cars echoing throughout. Two more vehicles piled onto the van's rear end with ensuing crunches. Countless eyes stared in awe and shock at the crash scene, morbidly expecting to see a gruesome and unfortunate sight.

However, nothing of the sort happened. Instead, the spellbound Majin only shuddered upon being struck, his body skidding and shifting a few inches over the asphalt with the transferred momentum, his eyes still fixated on the storefront.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry, you came out of nowhere! Are you okay?!" The concerned driver that struck him asked, his speech somewhat muffled through the deployed airbag.

As the device deflated, the man caught sight of the Majin, physically unharmed and barefaced about the whole ordeal. "What the—you aren't even hurt! Why the hell did you do that for? I'm so getting fired for this. Are you even listening to me?!" The driver roared out in indignation as he tried to get out of the damaged van to no avail. Portions of the front end had mangled the doors beyond usage and the handles hung loose.

Buu did not respond. The inaction escalated the trapped man's rhetoric, his waning concern spiraling into full-blown obscenities. More voices soon joined the uproar as the rear-enders and pedestrians standing by moved in to rip onto the humongous and heedless jaywalker.

_"This ain't funny! Once I'm out of here I'm going to beat that smirk off your face!"_

_"What's wrong with you? __You could have hurt someone!"_

_"The heck are you even supposed to be? A ball of gum? That's a dumb Quirk!"_

_"You ruined my new car, fatso! You're so gonna pay for it_—_"_

Through the building cacophony of hollering, insults, and accusations, Buu tried his best to ignore the annoying people. Unseen by the crowd, a pink brow twitched sporadically as his happy thoughts dwindled.

Upset with the Majin's absolute indifference, the mob's hurtful uproar reached a crescendo.

What remained of Buu's cheerful veneer withered, his patience running dry.

The moment his composure cracked, a deceptively plain and lazy jab was hurled right into the van that had crashed onto him.

The ki-embued hit sent the twisted bundle of steel, aluminum, and rubber spinning and rolling through the street, its terrified driver crying out bloody murder as both himself and the totaled vehicle disappeared into a building with the sound of glass breaking and crumbling concrete. The rear-enders barely made it out unscathed, being forced to throw themselves onto the road in a mad dash for safety. Shaking themselves out of the shock, the two men stood up—

—just as the van ignited within the store and its very flammable contents. Their bodies disappeared in the ensuing explosion that rocked the street, debris and blazing chunks of building materials raining down throughout.

The spell keeping the shocked onlookers glued to the spot fell apart with a single terror-stricken scream, and then all hell broke loose.

With those inconveniences out of the way, Buu moved towards the bakery with tunnel vision, dimly aware of the worsening chaos on the street and the foul stink of smoke nearby. Automatic doors slid open as he stepped through, and he was thrilled to see the bewildered workers making a beeline for the emergency exit to give him room to feast. He disregarded the faint sound of approaching sirens behind him as he loomed over his tasty rewards with glazed eyes. His belly grumbled fiercely through the abandoned bakery as the delightful smell of freshly baked delights overwhelmed him and lightened his mood again.

Buu paused. The unexpected, wide availability of sweets before him made him hesitate with indecision. Where to begin? Everything looked so good; there were many cakes, puff pastries, donuts, and cheesecakes. To his right, there were countless varieties of cookies, truffles, and big brownies and items he had never seen before. He was going to have a big-big feast! "Hum. What do Buu want to eat first?"

Fifteen seconds passed before he gave up that taxing mental endeavor. Shrugging as he ripped off the nearest display case, he dug into the sweets like a ravenous dog. Buu's mouth stretched to fit a whole cake in a single bite. Then another, and another.

"So-so yu-mmy!" He mouthed between messy bites, chunks of icing and cake splattering everywhere and dripping down his gold-laced vest and baggy pants. All cheesecakes were devoured next. Once those were gone, the cookies faced his wrath. The brownies were then taken.

After the tenth emptied display case, his waist circumference had distended considerably, enough to push his vest and belt to their breaking point if they weren't imbued with his unholy power. By the fifteenth, he was feeling somewhat sluggish with the sugar rush but he did not stop. He couldn't; there were so many sweets left and he had been waiting for this for so long. "This so good. So _so_ good. More!"

Behind him, the entry doors slid open with a rush of light footsteps and street noise. His antenna twitched in recognition at the intrusion, but the threat was instantly cataloged as insignificant as he sensed their unease and negligible energy presence.

They didn't matter.

Hushed voices spoke in disgust at the display of gluttony and sloppiness. Then the click of weapons being unholstered and aimed sounded. "This is the police! Drop the food right now and turn around! You're coming with us!"

"Nuh-uh, nuh-uh," Buu responded through muffled chewing, walking in further to assault the next food display while he shook his head frantically.

"Suit yourself!" The leading officer warned gruffly, the threat clear in his voice as he pulled the trigger.

Buu heard a click as a projectile was launched, its insignificant prongs lightly piercing his vest and upper back painlessly. The officer pressed the trigger a second time to discharge the capacitors, sending thousands of volts through the tiny conductive wires and into his body. The Majin felt his extremities shudder lightly with the voltage, but the ache was nothing compared to what he felt earlier with the metal birds as they tried to trap him. It did not dampen his movements, so he did not stop his feast.

"That ain't enough!" One of the men cried in dismay. "Hit him again!"

Another set of prongs struck Buu's back. Then another. _Three_ Tasers engineered to immobilize Quirk users then went off as one, making his jaw spasm open. The impulses forced him to spit out a mostly uneaten cinnamon roll, his arms jerking up hard enough to hit and wreck the shelving and sweets in front of him. In slow motion, they all splattered across the room into a mushy mess. Creating a cascading failure, six shelves and glass displays collapsed into themselves shortly after, crushing everything inside with the sound of breaking glass, snapped steel, and crushed dreams.

The Majin's crinkly lids snapped open as he gaped at the tragedy. Deep, dreary shadows began to overtake his eyes. He paid no attention to the random leftover twitches racking his body anymore, his ample shoulders hunching as he let his body expel a minute wave of energy to slap away the nagging prongs still embedded on his skin.

Pink cheeks flushed with a hint of red, Buu waddled around to face the spooked police officers, his towering form and sheer body mass dwarfing every man and woman present. They instinctively took a few steps back as they felt the heavy, oppressive energy building up like a black cloud around them, their hairs standing on their ends upon sensing mortal danger.

Handguns were drawn—

—but far too late. Buu had already taken a deep breath to shout _"__**Go away!" **_at the top of his lungs.

Hot and sickly sweet gale-force winds blasted out of his mouth to hit the retreating officers like a speeding bus. Their bodies were no match for the invisible front of energy, which promptly expelled them mercilessly through the glass windows and right into the street. Some of them did not get back up. The few officers that made it out with less severe injuries rallied together to recover the others, and most of the cruisers disappeared out of sight as quickly as they arrived, the situation succinctly escalated to Pro Heroes.

Pleased with their forceful eviction, the Majin turned back to the few shelves that were still standing, taking in mouthfuls of whatever was left as fast as he could. He'd have to hurry up before more annoying people showed up—

The damaged doors made a pleasant ringing noise again as they struggled to reopen. This time heavy, thumping footsteps moved purposely towards him, the ground beneath Buu shaking considerably as they neared. He could feel this one was different from the others but he didn't care enough to regard them.

"You dare attack my town and its good people," A deep, raspy, and guttural voice indicted him as they invaded his personal space. The anger was palpable and unmistakable in their accusations.

Buu huffed in exasperation. He shoved a final handful of truffles into his mouth before whirling around to yell—

—but his actions were stopped by a muscular shoulder that was driven right into his overfilled gut. Air blasted out of his orifices with the sudden pressure assaulting his body, his last mouthful of chocolatey goodness spewing explosively into the walls and ceilings of the store.

Razor-sharp claws pierced through the vest and skin on his sides, gripping onto him to hoist and toss all of his substantial weight away with startling ease. Shocked at the sudden weightlessness, Buu found his surroundings quickly changing as he was thrown out of the bakery through what remained of its entryway. He bounced like a rubber ball as he rolled over himself multiple times, crashing back on the street to eventually come to a stop by the two crunched up cars from earlier, his purple cape ending up tangled all over his head and arms.

Asphalt cracked and split as the Majin dug his gloves in to stabilize himself. A scowl overtook his previously neutral demeanor as he wrestled the twisted cape away to glare at the looming shadow of his attacker stepping out through the shattered bakery entryway.

The hairy creature was massive, easily a head or two taller than Buu. Grey, matted fur covered most of his body, and the bits of hypertrophied muscle visible in his limbs was stone-like and gleaming. Thick metal chains were wrapped over his wrists, and what remained of a tattered black uniform covered his bulky chest and legs. A distinctive canine-like face seethed with barely restrained fury, countless sharp teeth salivating as he leered at Buu through slitted amber eyes.

"Why you hurt Buu?!" The Majin blurted out indignantly, wiping away the remaining stray bits of food stuck on his chin and cheeks. "Mean wolf-man pay for that!" He slammed a closed fist against his palm to emphasize the threat as he looked _up_ to meet his opponent's perpetual glare. As he did so, he repressed the urge to yawn. He was getting so sleepy after eating so much.

The lofty canine scoffed as his clawed feet twinged in annoyance, the action burying his hardened keratin claws into the road. "You overgrown, gluttonous brute. You know not who you deal with, do you? My name is Gunnolf, and I am the Beast Hero. I am going to teach you a lesson and make you regret your actions, _Villain_." He proclaimed derisively, pure scorn and aggression oozing off his being as his eyes tried to burn right through Buu's own.

Hearty, mocking laughter busted out of the amused Majin. He wouldn't catch him unaware next time. "Funny Wolfy! Buu do nothing bad! You no strong and you sneak on Buu! Buu will beat Wolfy silly—"

_Wolfy?! _Gunnolf was done with the inane ramblings. Hearing the ridiculous claim of innocence stirred a new wave of righteous anger in him. Shifting into high gear, he cocked a closed fist back as every bundle of hyperdeveloped muscle in his body coiled up with raw power. His 8'6 frame sprung forward, the road cracking beneath his every step.

Buu was still snickering to himself, his ongoing arrogant spiel distracting him from the fact the incredibly tall Pro Hero had already cleared the distance between them with a speed unbecoming of someone his size.

A solid fist connected and compressed Buu's gum-like cheek inwards, his body skidding along the street for a few feet.

"That's enough blathering from you, you dimwitted hog." The Beast Hero breathed out, his words warbled through the rising bloodlust. His eyes did not leave his dazed quarry, who was awkwardly wobbling in place.

No, he would not give this 'Buu' any breathing room to recover. Pouncing forth once again, he sent a flurry of devastating left and right hooks across Buu's misshapen face and torso; hits that would have knocked most Villains out.

The Beast Hero was not pleased to find how easily his fists were sinking into the Villain's pliable flesh, which wavered and rippled as it absorbed the damage, showing little to no signs of bruising or injury. It felt as if he was punching a damned sandbag. What in the heavens was he made out of?

No matter. He would not relent...

* * *

**Beale Air Force Base**

**[ California ]**

**Minutes earlier**

"God damn it all." The sound of leather gloves stretching and creaking echoed through the uneasy silence overtaking the war room, the remains of a snapped cigar falling on the polished floor below.

To say Lieutenant-General Wayne Hayes was furious was a great understatement. Not only did they tragically lose two of their airmen in a matter of minutes, but they had also lost _over 350 million dollars_ worth of vital warfare tech in that timeframe. He could almost feel the few remaining dark hairs in his head turn gray the moment he found out.

He lit another cigar, the third so far in the last twenty minutes. Men and women sat in front of a wall stocked with a myriad of computer workstations, digging through every sensor relay, surveillance system, and local broadcasts to figure out what in the hell they were dealing with. The moment he stomped past them, they shrank right into their stations to avoid his worsening wrath.

Baffled at the preposterous scenario, he had personally reviewed the radar and flight data over and over again in the hopes the geeks had missed something. They didn't. He started pacing again.

The offshore radar tracked the threat entering United States airspace as they _flew _on their own accord, to take on _three F-35_ head-ons. Somehow, against those mathematical and downright lethal odds, the shithead had downed them all in exactly _fifty-two seconds_. Then they happily skipped over into the mainland at a low altitude, their signature quickly lost to the city's bustle and background noise.

God damn it. He demanded to see the latest data just recovered from the fighter's black boxes, his concerns flourishing further as he digested the information. It wasn't a fluke or glitch; the telemetry didn't lie. A minimum of four to six _AIM-120_ missiles was deployed, all detonating on-target. _Over 460_ 25mm shells had been fired. He wasn't sure what bothered him the most. Was it the fact the foreign hostile tanked some of their deadliest air weaponry or was it the fact they had failed to uphold their duties?

Likely both. Homeland Security would be in an upheaval in a matter of minutes.

"We need to find him, _now_." He barked, snuffing out the spent cigar against the partially melted armrest.

The sound of a chair shifting nearby drew his attention to an operator standing up in attention and waiting for his acknowledgment. He did his best to rein in his impatience. "Out with it."

"Sir, I...I believe we got something." The operator nervously blurted out.

Hayes nodded towards the large screens. "Show me."

"Yes, sir." With a crisp salute, he scrambled back to his station to type a few commands before speaking again. "Local surveillance and emergency reports are coming in from Rio Del Mar, in Santa Cruz county. There are several dozen wounded and at least eight casualties at a local beach."

Hayes did not blink as he observed the data getting transferred to the larger monitors above the workstations, a flat map taking over most of them to display the airspace near California and a portion of the state. A red x marked where the group of _F-35_ went down over the Pacific Ocean.

After inputting another long string of commands onto his console, the operator continued. "Flight data shows our fighters had an outbound path that had them passing over the location of the incident, so it's likely the hostile followed the contrails back inland." To help visualize it all, the operator superimposed a dotted line—labeled as the outbound _F35s_—snaking back from their final resting place, to the mainland, and then right to the base. A red circle sat on Rio Del Mar beach; the fighter's path only missing it by a mile or so.

The screen flickered, switching to display live drone footage from the beach in question. Large areas of the shore had been obliterated as if a giant had gone through it all and claimed a chunk of it with a building-sized shovel. The famous fishing pier and old concrete ship were gone. Even the nearby parking lot—which sat nearly a football field away from the sprawling sandy coastline—was covered in leftover saltwater, debris, and mounds of sand, making it look like a formidable tsunami had battered it.

In the distance, Pro Heroes with water-based Quirks were scouring the ocean for survivors. A slew of busy emergency vehicles sat by the street, where victims were being tended to and loaded into ambulances. News crews were everywhere.

"Shit," Hayes seethed in dismay. They had to resolve this before it escalated any further. If the General got involved, shit would _really _hit the fan. "Were you able to track them down after this..._Stewart?_" He pressed, stomping his way to the subordinate as he read his ID badge.

Sensing the restless and looming presence of the Lieutenant-General over him, Stewart shifted in discomfort. He tried his best to focus on the walls of digital data from the Hero and Police Network to summarize the intel for the demanding man."Y-yes sir. Not long after this, t-the Hero Network went off with a report of a developing situation on Newman Avenue, about ten miles away from Rio Del Mar beach in Santa Cruz. Eyewitnesses claim the suspect fell out of thin air and caused a car accident. When confronted by civilians, they proceeded to punch the van that hit them _through_ a building. The explosion killed multiple civilians."

Even more casualties? Damn it all.

The time-delayed footage of the latest incident spread over the monitors, all compiled into two large screens. This time, it was a security camera mounted on top of an apartment building and a shaky and rather frantic live stream from a civilian's social media account. A store in the distance was on fire, its front caved in and utterly broken. Two other vehicles were crushed on the street, and a police cruiser sat abandoned nearby.

"After that, the hostile went into...Bayside Bakery_. _Right now they—they're...burglarizing it." The young man said, his tone flat and borderline incredulous as he quietly read the following sentences in the report.

What in the hell? Hayes frowned, his glove gripping onto Stewart's headrest as he tried to make sense of it all. "Of all places, they choose to rob a goddamn _bakery_?"

The operator shook his head nervously, double-checking the live data before speaking."Sir...actually, the Police claim they were _eating _everything inside."

Hayes' brow quirked. He did not know how to respond to that tidbit. He took a deep breath, "Okay...go on."

"The Police tried to arrest them; their attempts failed and many were wounded by some sort of emitter-type blast. Some fatalities have been reported. The police immediately evacuated and removed themselves from the encounter to allow Pro Heroes to deal with them. One Pro just arrived and he's about to confront the Villain. Another is on the way," Stewart finished.

Smart move on the cop's part. Hayes focused intently on the monitors, searching for their target. Nothing happened for a moment—

—until an obese, pink body was unceremoniously thrown out of a building and into the middle of the road. They bounced around like a damn rubber ball until they came to a stop, their upper body tangled up in the ugly cape wrapped around their neck. Seconds later, the familiar form of the infamous Pro Hero Gunnolf stalked out of the bakery. In a matter of seconds, the hero had closed the distance between himself and the hostile, decking them hard enough to send them into an uncontrolled stumble, his onslaught relentless.

Hayes enjoyed the visual. "Can we verify this is who we're looking for?"

"It's a match, sir." Another operator chimed in with conviction, a spare monitor zooming on the target and freezing the frame to scan it. "Their appearance matches Captain Jenkin's first contact description."

That's all he needed to hear. Lieutenant-General Hayes straightened, staring down at the screen with the hostile's image with palpable fury...and damned embarrassment. What in the heavens was he looking at? If he wasn't aware of their tally of destruction and death so far, he would have thought they were a parody of a pink Sumo wrestler, a genie, and a wannabe hero thrown into a blender.

For Christ's sake...this was getting ludicrous. He resisted the urge to pull at his hair as he spoke again. "Summon as many of the Special Forces as you can get on short notice and bring an Iron Maiden! Do whatever you need to help take the fucker down and throw them in _The Crypt_ for good measure. _Now!_" He hollered, his mortified tone obvious to everyone present.

The underground war room descended into controlled chaos as orders were barked and plans were set into motion. Above them, engines roared to life as seasoned men suited up and marched into armored vehicles. On the runway, three heavily customized VTOLs spooled up for takeoff, their open cargo bays filling with vehicles, men, and a monstrous Iron Maiden.

"What will we do with the Pro Heroes and the Police?" A female voice behind Hayes queried. He did not look back.

It was a valid question. Pro Heroes did have an unyielding chokehold of society and a significant portion of the judicial system. They'd try to take over the scene if given the chance. However, these events went over and beyond petty squabbles for power and he'd refuse nothing but full cooperation and complete control. Unlike the far East, they still had a viable military body and some of the highest security incarceration facilities in the country to keep unruly shitheads from seeing the light of day.

He'd be sure to put one of them to good use today.

Unfortunately for the hapless foreign Villain, he also had some of the most powerful Quirk users waiting to be called to duty if things went south. This was a matter of national security—with International ramifications—and they could not show a shred of weakness or hesitation to the public eye. The moment they did, it'd likely their relevance would be questioned, and that wasn't happening in his watch.

Hayes' response was downright sinister and shrewd. "As it stands, the Air Force had jurisdiction the moment they invaded our waters and butchered two of our airmen. They're a foreign hostile entity, and therefore ours to do as we please with."

A corner of his thinning lips twisted upward. He couldn't wait to watch his men use this miserable foreigner as a guinea pig and beat them to a pulp. They'd find what made them tick and extract every bit of information out of them. Perhaps even that handy Quirk as well. It'd be a fantastic asset.

They'd also pay for the death of his men and the humiliation they wrought to the Army in that mishap.

* * *

After what felt like an eternity, Gunnolf landed a weighty and broad swing that thundered into the Majin's enormous belly, finally loosening his footing enough to make him collapse into the unfortunate sedan in his path.

Steel whined and buckled underneath Buu's bulky weight, the vehicle's broken innards warping and twisting themselves around him as he sank in further. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he almost let the lull of sleep beckon him right there and then.

However, a noxious odor roused him back as it began to spread around his metal prison; gasoline fumes.

He furrowed his brows at the familiar scenario about to unfold, the unpleasant and painful sense of déjà vu stirring him to action. Drowsily swinging his arms into the wreckage, he caved in the pieces keeping him tangled within the ticking time bomb. He wouldn't get tricked into sitting on a car going _boom_ a second time! He grunted in annoyance at Wolfy's ploys, his big boot kicking away the final bits of warped alloys trapping him. Feeling a foreign object in his body, his eyes roamed down to find a stray rod impaling him through his elbow; he pulled it off with ease, the gouge mending itself in seconds.

The Beast Hero watched the regenerative feat with clinical interest and mounting concern. What kind of Quirk was behind these feats? When the piercing wound in their arm healed, he could see no blood or bone within. Did this mean vital organs were displaced, bypassed or completely nonexistent? Too many variables and possibilities to account for right now.

This would be interesting regardless.

Buu stomped toward Gunnolf, a triumphant smile on his round face as he pointed at the smoking car behind him. "Ha-ha! Buu no fall for trick again today! Buu so smart and you big ugly dumb-_dumb_ _Wolfy_—"

**Kaboom.** Two engines went up in flames, catching Buu celebrating far too early as he stood within the fiery blast radius. His back took the brunt of the explosion and he was thrown towards a surprised Gunnolf, who wasted no time to take advantage of the brief opening.

A right hook sank into the pink Villain's stuffy cheeks, the impact making the tissue ripple and buckle. Coated in burning fuel, Buu hissed in pain as his momentum was increased and redirected right into a building, his flaming body easily piercing the thick concrete beams before coming to a stop in the dark, collapsed storefront.

"Gunnolf." A curt voice not heard in months called out.

Looking up, the werewolf caught sight of Electoplant dropping from a nearby roof, his red and yellow cape spread open like a parachute to slow down his descent. His dark bodysuit, twisting circuits, and elaborate helmet were already lit up and buzzing with tendrils of self-generated electricity.

Gunnolf scoffed, his earlier suspicions getting confirmed with his arrival. He acknowledged the electric-themed hero with a sharp nod and a dig, as usual. "I thought I caught the stench of fresh ozone earlier."

Electoplant chuckled to himself, following his fellow hero's caustic gaze. A newly formed hole in an office building had a fresh line of smoke that trailed back to the burning cars, all courtesy of the Villain's burning cape and combusting rear end. Hundreds of sheets of loose paper were lazily drifting out of it in the breeze.

"Before you ask: the answer is **_no_**. I got this." Gunnolf interrupted him before he could speak, forcing the last words out with a surly growl as he stepped into the path between Buu and himself possessively. He did not like others meddling with his quarry.

Electoplant stepped back to appease the morose hero, well aware he couldn't change his mind. "As you wish. Who are they?"

"That I know not. What I do know is that he was likely involved in the beach incident _and_ what unfolded here, and that is all that matters. He killed there," Gunnolf glanced back to the remains of the charred store, where he knew the helpless driver's body lied still. Two other bodies had yet to be recovered from the explosion. Many of the officers evacuated moments before his arrival was severely wounded and it was likely a few wouldn't make it as well. "and he killed _here_. For that, I am going to pummel him into oblivion—"

Manic shrieking erupted out of the Buu-sized hole in the storefront, and soon enough the Majin's form resurfaced through it as he launched himself towards Gunnolf with a burst of fiery ki. Electoplant cursed, scrambling out of harm's way to focus on chasing away a group of nosy bystanders poking their heads at an intersection.

Gunnolf braced for impact. Settling both arms against his chest and his center of gravity slightly forward, he was truly confident he'd be able to take anything this pink buffoon could throw his way. He had strength, leverage and high mobility on his side, not to mention his reinforced armored skin making him highly resistant to damage.

Lacking any significant muscle tone, he was all but sure the plump Villain wasn't that strong—

—a flash of unexpected pain blossomed deep in his abdominal muscles, an annoyed Buu managing to land a closed fist past his defenses. The Villain's stubby arm had stretched and coiled around like spaghetti to bypass his guard. His Quirk-reinforced flesh held strong, but he felt a trickle of fear coursing through his mind when the smallest of cracks formed over his skin.

A second fist struck him—this time much stronger than the first. He spat saliva as most of the air came rushing out of his lungs, his muscles spasming protectively as he doubled over.

The Majin's grin deepened. He shouted _"__Buu!" _as he drove another fist into Wolfy's abdomen, joyous to notice the miniature clouds of pulverized fleshy armor coming off in droves as he directed more power through each hit.

Pushing through the pain, the Beast Hero wrapped his hands together above Buu, hammering them deep into the back of his grotesque, bald, and tentacled head with a roar. The sickening sound of snapping bones or tearing tendons was not audible as expected, and the pink bastard only flinched for a moment before merrily slamming another fist in his gut. This time, the gloved fist sank much deeper into his flesh as abdominal plating buckled in, the internal damage making him taste copper a breath later.

Gunnolf grit his teeth and clobbered Buu again, his animalistic scream of blended fury and pain echoing through the street. Then he hit him again for good measure. _And again_. Each hammering impact made the pink Villain's shoulders, head, and neck pancake down like melted plastic into his gumlike body further, and he only stopped when Buu's arms dropped harmlessly by his sides.

Unsure as to how grievously he had wounded him with such a heavy displacement of tissue, Gunnolf drove a clawed foot into his blubbery chest to create some distance between them and critically reassess the engagement. He tried to reign in his fast breathing as he ran a hand over his abdominal muscles, the crushed outer skin moist with seeping blood that would soon clot and harden.

A deep growl pushed through his ragged teeth as he looked over his shoulder, his sensitive hearing catching his fellow hero just as he was approaching and opening his mouth to yak in protest. "**Zip it, I said got this!**" He snapped vehemently, his voice inhumanly loud and rasped through the pained battle frenzy.

Electoplant raised his arms in defeat. When Gunnolf was like this, he knew to back off at once. Done with the moody werewolf, he turned his back to focus on keeping civilians out of harm's way until his assistance was needed. Backup would be here soon anyway.

* * *

Buu's senses were wacky as he staggered back, his compressed upper body returning to its rightful place with a wet plop as he tugged at his head tentacle with one hand. His thin mouth was steadily drifting downward.

"Had enough yet? Surely not, you murderous twit." Gunnolf taunted, loud pops rippling through the street as he cracked his neck and fists bellicosely, a chuckle ringing deep in his chest as his heart quickened with the thrill of battle. Through the reality-distorting rush of adrenaline, the nasty unease that was trying to take a hold of his thoughts got subdued and forgotten, the flashes of pain spreading up his sternum grounding him with brewing aggression and battle lucidity.

This brute's appearance was truly deceiving. That Quirk of his was going to be quite problematic if he could inflict significant damage with _mere punches_, especially if he was being wounded at a faster rate than his body could repair itself. Worst of all, he had a nasty suspicion he was being toyed with if the ever-increasing power thrown his way was anything to go by. He'd have to get the upper hand by driving Buu to act erratically, taking advantage of any openings given by mistake.

Otherwise, he'd be finding his regenerative breaking point today.

His mild taunt worked—far too well. The pink Villain's cheeks had flushed red as he attacked, setting off a small booming shockwave behind him, his forward motion noticeably faster than before. A fist was cocked and aimed at the Beast Hero's vulnerable abdominal area, but he nimbly sidestepped the pernicious hit thanks to his Quirk-enhanced muscle attunement and sharp reaction times, countering with a fist of his own that hit true on the Villain's gelatinous face, right between those annoying squinted eyes.

Buu did not dodge or wince in pain this time, and he simply retaliated with an aimless punch that got promptly blocked by Gunnolf's intact and ultra-dense plating on his left forearm.

_Crunch. _

Not so intact anymore. Hardened, multi-layered dermal armor burst into pulverized fragments with a single hit, taking out a significant portion of his skin. The violent force behind it seeped into his very bones to rattle and spread microfractures up to his shoulder, his clawed feet splitting the asphalt as he was unwittingly shifted backward.

Buu jabbed a fist into his forearm again. A sudden wavering of alertness dropped him to one knee. Misery blossomed through the open arm wound, shards of skin piercing the nerve and muscle tissue beneath, his vision blurring as his mind was briefly flooded with white pain. Not good. Every damned hit was getting exponentially stronger. Soon enough he'd outright break a bone!

Change of plans; he needed to cripple this mongrel _now_—

"Ay, you lardy!" A heavily accented voice shouted over Buu's shoulder, drawing his undivided attention with the offhanded insult.

That red shell-loaded bandolier and the American-themed bandana over his balding head was unmistakable. Gunnolf instantly recognized the colorful and moderately overweight gun hero Musket.

Instead of feeling relief, he felt trepidation.

Buu turned to come face to face with Musket's massive arm-mounted gun barrel, which went off with a deafening report, spewing a wave of heavy metal slugs into his upper body. The arriving gun-themed pro hero moved in closer to send another volley from his weapon, baring his teeth challengingly. "How do ya like that fatso, huh?!"

More shots rang through the street, empty shells clattering about everywhere. Buu's expression remained impassive as his pink flesh ripped open with the buckshot splashing against him, the newcomer none the wiser to the futility of his attack as he moved within striking distance.

Gunnolf saw it all. He could_ feel_ the predatory and malicious intent oozing out of the Villain. Did Electoplant or the Police call in for reinforcements without giving them critical details of his physiology? "Musket, fall back!" He implored, his actions delayed and stagnant as if he were treading through dense oil. That trigger-happy fool didn't know what he was dealing with!

His warning went unheeded. "For Pete's sake, calm down Gunnolf, will ya? Sit your hairy self down for a minute. This sucker's done for!" Musket hollered brashly, jumping in to slam his robust gun barrel on the Villain's shiny head once the chambers ran dry, confident the strike would surely knock them out.

Buu let the hero's wild swing hit him, the hardy steel resonating with a fleshy _clang_ upon impact, his pink head fluttering lightly with the absorbed recoil. A golden glove seized the barrel shortly after, collapsing the entirety of it with a casual squeeze and a mischievous grin.

Being a biological extension of Musket's arm, the weapon's destruction elicited a mind-numbing howl of pain from the hero as the bone and tissue within were crushed.

"You call Buu fat! You get pow-pow!" Buu chirped bitterly, his head tipped to one side as he wrapped a humongous hand around Musket's neck to hoist him off his feet and meet him face to face. His mean mug brightened further upon seeing the pathetic look of fear and misery in the burly man that dared insult him.

The vengeful Majin waved him goodbye as he loosened his iron grip, his free tubby arm slamming into the falling hero's unprotected torso with the ferocity of a rushing truck as he uttered a final "_Pow!". _

Musket's eyes bulged out, the unrestrained impact eliciting a cringe-worthy crack through his chest as he was launched away like discarded trash.

"Musket!" The electric-themed hero called out in distress, shaking himself out of his stunned trance upon hearing the sickening sound the gun hero made as he slammed into the building closest to him, his body quickly disappearing in the haze of aerosolized concrete. He shooed the remaining bystanders still ogling and snapping pictures of the scene with an intimidating crackle of electricity from his hands, dashing towards the wounded hero the moment they dispersed safely, the Police officers nearby trying to pull them to safety finally regaining control of the stragglers.

A sharp swing of his cape ushered a blast of wind that removed the rising clouds blocking his sight. Cringing at Musket's woeful physical state, Electoplant cautiously removed his body from the man-sized indentation. Most of his sternum and ribcage had collapsed inward with the blunt force trauma, and he had to repress the urge to gag the moment he noticed the grievous injury and crimson stains seeping through.

He laid two fingers on the downed hero's carotid artery as he picked him up to take him to the emergency crews. Balking within his dark helmet, he shook his head sorrowfully before departing with the unresponsive body. This would need a miracle.

Seeing Electoplant's mournful body language, a fresh swell of invigorating fury overwhelmed Gunnolf. Every drop of pain and vertigo plaguing him vanished at once. Forcing himself to stand, he blitzed towards the distracted Majin with a guttural scream, burying a fist on his gut with every shred of strength he had. It sank deep and elicited a small blast of compressed air out of Buu's chest and arm vents as he staggered back.

_Not enough._

He unraveled the heavy chains around his wrists, swinging the 80-plus pounds of steel into the Buu's upper body. The vicious lashes plucked deep gouges of pink off his shoulder and chest. The Villain whined as he hobbled away from the impromptu weapons tearing at him.

_Not enough!_

A massive pile of rebar and concrete sat by Gunnolf's feet. It was promptly slugged upward as a makeshift hammer into Buu's face, the material splintering on impact as it flattened his fat head pencil-thin as if it were soft Play-Doh. The distorted Majin grunted in discomfort as he swayed, his gloves frantically rubbing away at the itchy, powdery cement coating what remained of his eyes.

**_NOT ENOUGH!_**

Taking advantage of the Villain's impaired senses, he pounced forth again to seize the disgusting and abnormally elongated tentacle on his head. He twisted the rubbery tissue around his hand a few times for a good grip, and then he _tugged hard_. The top-heavy Majin lost his balance as his head was mercilessly brought down low into an oncoming spiked knee _twice_, the serrated tissue stabbing through and rupturing his blobby head into splattering goop with the final hit.

Buu collapsed onto his knees, his body going slack as his head melted into a jelly-like sludge that lazily dribbled down his shoulders. Gunnolf fought the urge to recoil and retch after witnessing the gruesome wound, reminding himself that the Villain's unholy body bypassed the typical vulnerabilities of flesh and bone.

As if on cue, a disembodied and rather irked eyeball regrew on the bubbling tissue on Buu's neck, the splattered pink globs on the road floating up to merge into the reforming head—

Shuddering at the disturbing sight, the Beast Hero dashed to the small alley a few paces behind him, setting his sight on a sturdy steel ladder that connected the street level to a second story. A portion of its upper rungs was enkindled by the fires consuming the building nearby. The bolts holding it up gave way under the strain after a few pulls, and he hefted it over his shoulder with some effort. He bit back the agony running down his gut and arm, wasting no time to run back towards the recovering Villain.

Buu observed Wolfy's impending attack amusedly through regrown eyes. Grinning at the last moment, he widened his stance, willing the energy he could wield to surge forth and coat his body with a layer of unyielding ki as over a ton of accelerated iron smashed into him.

Instead of tearing the Majin into unrecognizable bits, the semi-molten metal exploded into small shards that pierced the street as it hit his gut and forearms, where only mild scuffs and hot, sizzling moisture remained as a monument of the hero's fruitless efforts.

_'He can harden his body at will too?!' _Gunnolf did a double-take, glowering at the unforeseen development and feeling rather dispirited and weary of his worsening odds in this fight.

Uttering a growl, the Beast Hero raised his fists in preparation for imminent close-quarters combat, his posture hunched as the collection of injuries and mental exhaustion started to take their toll.

As expected, the Villain didn't disappoint, and he immediately dashed blindly towards the unsettled werewolf. He managed to shake himself out of his bewilderment just in time to take advantage of the Majin's blatantly open and unpolished offensive, burying another fist under his double chin and halting him in his tracks.

Buu tanked the damage head-on, giggling wickedly at the hero even as his face contorted away with the force. _Wolfy thought he was clever but he fell for his ploy!_

In the blink of an eye, Buu's facial features melted away, all of the amorphous pink tissue surrounding Gunnolf's fist liquefying and sloughing off to allow the offending limb free passage _through_ his head. The now over-extended arm was taken with an iron grip as the whooping Majin transformed what was once his head into a set of hands. He pivoted on the spot and swung the werewolf overhead with a move similar to a Judo throw.

By the time Gunnolf processed the great feat of anatomical manipulation—and the shameful fact the Villain had tricked him—it was too late to counter. Now airborne, his spinning body crashed right through the burning car wreckages. The flaming remains were triturated by his massive weight, and he struck the ground once on his back before he was able to use the momentum to flip over and set himself upright like a springy feline, leaving a trail of bulldozed asphalt and dirt in his wake as his damaged claws held onto the road.

Hacking coughs shook his frame as he steadied himself. His lungs were burning something fierce with the noxious fumes invading them. His fur was badly singed and still ablaze, but his armored skin managed to shield him from the worst of the heat and debris wherever it still held strong.

Leery of the uneasy stillness around him, he frantically scanned for movement through the haze of smoke and fire—

—until the pink Villain emerged through the flames separating them like a demonic, screeching speeding bullet. A terrible headbutt clashed against his snout before he could dodge, the impact carrying enough force to break multiple teeth and snap his head back in one fell swoop.

Sweeping Gunnolf's feet with a kick, Buu then proceeded to pull him up by the legs just as he smashed the road apart with his falling body. "Wolfy go fly now!" The Majin cried out with excitement, whirling around on his feet like a spinning top, quickly gaining speed with his concussed cargo and only letting go when he had enough momentum to send the dazed werewolf sky-bound with a thrilled "wheee!".

Twisting and turning uncontrollably during his forced ascent, the Beast Hero grasped the depth of his worsening predicament as he found himself suffering from severe vertigo, his jumbled body clearing a few high-rise rooftops with incredible velocity and nothing to hold onto on the way down. Once he regained a semblance of control, he shifted himself to face the city as gravity reclaimed him, his widened eyes searching for the Villain and most importantly, a way to slow down his fall.

Buu was nowhere in sight once again. How could someone so large and conspicuous be so stealthy? What in the hell was he planning?! He eyed the closest building, perhaps he could reach—

_-Whizz- _

Gunnolf's ears twitched upon sensing the unnatural sound and sudden air disturbance above himself. He stiffened, mindful that he could do nothing but brace his body for what would come.

Misery flourished down his spine to a degree he hadn't felt before. Some of the thickest dermal armor buckled and yielded, the merciless kick splashing across his spine and broad back hard enough to damage vertebrae and compress the air surrounding him, blasting out a sonorous shockwave that hastened his trek back to the surface. Trying his best to control his fall, he let his instincts take over, readjusting his body to land flat on his back while focusing every bit of his remaining hardening ability on that area to absorb the impact and avert mortal wounds.

The crash was as agonizing as he expected, and it sent vibrations down the road as thickening cracks spread out through it, the street cratering and almost sinking into the sewers below as every drop of air rushed out of his lungs.

Buu remained aloft and hovering menacingly over the wounded hero, his chubby arms wrapped around his chest as he observed his handiwork with unabashed satisfaction. But he was nowhere near done yet!

The battered werewolf coughed up blood as he struggled to sit up in defiance, still unwilling to yield and accept defeat. Hairline fractures were now running along with his shoulder blades and most of his back, where bloody, beige-colored skin was starting to show beneath the missing armored plating. Most of his energy was now flowing into his wounds, significantly limiting his stamina and threatening to pull him from his Beastly transformation.

He spat two broken canine teeth as he glared at the dangerous foe descending like an unholy hellion. It infuriated him to no end to see that every single blow he had dealt so far—even to his clothing—was gone. Even his burnt cape was in a pristine state. How was _tha_t even possible?!

"Bye-bye!" Buu chirped in a far too pleasant and ominous tone as he aimed a lone finger at the downed Pro Hero, a shimmering consolidation of ghastly light swirling into existence inches from it as the ancient Majin brought forth a minute portion of his esoteric power to bear.

Whatever the Villain was forging was as alluring as it was alien, its surreal fuschia glow almost bewitching him in a moment of vacillation. But Gunnolf_ always_ trusted his instincts above all else. That's why the moment he felt a shiver running down his spine, he did not hesitate to act.

Drawing upon every ounce of stamina left, he pushed his burning muscles to their very limits to dodge the baseball-sized sphere of whirring light aimed his way, his side missing it by a hair's breadth. Nary a second later he realized the terrible danger he had faced as the air around the miniature sun visibly warped and sizzled, its chaotic outer rim irradiating so much thermal energy it seared and melted through his armored shoulder and upper back with little effort. He bit his tongue to hold back the influx of agonizing pain, his burnt and spent body collapsing into a cringing heap of misery.

Forcing himself to lay on his good side to trail the deadly sphere, he was vaguely aware Electoplant had returned, his blurred silhouette moving towards him through a narrow alley. Both heroes watched with bated breath as the erratic attack finally made contact against a sidewalk a few blocks away, the pink sphere easily tunneling through and disappearing underground—

—_**Boom. **_For the second time ever, earth and its denizens experienced a little taste of the irrational and preposterous power of weaponized ki.

The detonation was terrible and unexpectedly fierce. An instantaneous wave of awfully radiant light spread forth from the expanding dome of roseate energy to bathe the whole neighborhood in its sickly pallor, its intensity so great it succinctly blinded the unprepared heroes. Building foundations began to rattle, the road beneath them quavering in protest as every single window around them shattered with the cyclonic force walloping them.

Gunnolf dropped flat on the crater to avoid further harm, his claws digging deep into the dirt and gravel underneath to fasten him in place. Electoplant was out in the open, and he haplessly crashed through an upturned car when his cape unwillingly snapped wide open, the windy shock front dragging him away as it pummeled him ruthlessly with heat and debris.

When the howling wind and heatwaves subsided, the men stirred warily.

The Beast Hero had ended buried under a thick layer of rocks and dirt, but he was otherwise unharmed by the explosion.

Electoplant wasn't as lucky and he was flung further down the street, his back slamming painfully against a curbside retention wall. He concentrated a small electrical discharge around his body to shatter the concrete keeping him immobile. Once freed, he stumbled to his knees, his bones aching and sore from the impact, portions of his onyx bodysuit and cape laying in tatters and burnt from the heated shrapnel that struck him. The left side of his helmet had cracked open with a particularly nasty hit, and the lightning decals over his ears were torn off and missing.

The dreadful sound of an evacuation siren started to wail in the distance, drawing their attention. Both heroes looked up simultaneously to face the aftermath of Buu's attack, a chill creeping down their spine as their eyes beheld the destruction that laid beyond.

Where a two-story mini-mall previously stood, there was nothing. Not even rubble. Every building material had been obliterated, and the surfaces on its spherical outer rim were still glowing red with leftover heat. Steamy water spewed out of broken city mains and sewerage, the destructive sphere sinking underground just as high as it had spread skyward. The buildings nearby didn't fare much better, their exposed surfaces torn apart by the sheer force of the detonation.

Gunnolf glared at the Majin, who was giggling to himself as he beheld his macabre handiwork. How was a paltry sphere of light capable of such unspeakable carnage? Was this his full power? He had no other option but to grudgingly acknowledge the fact they were horribly outmatched. They _could _die here. Where in the hell were the other Pro Heroes?

Another debilitating wave of blood came up through his mouth, a spell of dizziness threatening to buckle his knees as he tried to get up. They had to find a way to take this Villain down, or at least incapacitate him until the others arrived. His exhausted eyes briefly rested on Electoplant.

The electrokinetic had recovered, limping his way towards Buu's field of vision, his body language tense with trepidation. He powered through his reluctance to take advantage of the Villain's engrossment and abysmal situational awareness. "Pink fiend, catch!" He shouted, flinging a small object at him.

Buu's manic laughter paused as he instinctively turned to the sound, the miniature sphere of ki that had begun to shimmer on his finger dying away the moment he caught the peculiar metal disk. He eyed the device curiously—

**_"Thunderbolt!" _**Electoplant exclaimed, unleashing a torrent of lightning through his arms. Tendrils of pure yellow light snaked through the air, their power crackling with sonorous snaps as they honed on the conductor disk and their intended target.

The Majin let out an awful screech as his body lit up like a Christmas tree, his gloves, cape, and clothes catching on fire instantly. Bits of pink skin and ashy fiber over his chest boiled and popped until a final surge of concussive energy blew him away and into the same eight-story office building he had struck earlier, a shockwave of smoke and Buu splattering everywhere.

"H-how's...Musket doing? Where...where's our backup?" Gunnolf hissed through pained breathing, spitting more copper tasting fluids through his fractured snout as he scanned the extensive property damage overhead for any signs of movement.

Electoplant shook his head as he approached the werewolf. "They managed to stabilize him for the moment, but it doesn't look good. I don't think he's going to make it. As for the others, most heroes were responding to the incident at Rio Del Mar, and that's a good five to ten-mile trek even with Ferry's help getting here. They should arrive anytime now." His vision then settled on the panting and bleeding Beast Hero as he assessed the collection of significant wounds he was dealt with, especially the atrocious one that almost took his shoulder. It was not often a foe could get through his tough skin _or_ his fists. "How are _you _doing?"

Some good news, at least. Gunnolf thought Musket had died right then and there. If he was alive, he still had a chance. He spared another troubled glance at the crater and the flattened edifices around it before dismissing the electrokinetic's concerns with a lazy shrug, the adrenaline still numbing the absolute misery he knew would come soon. "I—I'll live. Were those buildings fully evacuated?"

Electoplant pointed at his helmet and the radio within. "That's what they said, at least most of them. The neighborhood is in full lockdown. With the evacuation siren going off, it's probably going to be a much larger evac zone now, and rightfully so." His head shifted to look up to the hole Buu last disappeared through. "That was a significant zap and _way_ more power than what I normally use. Do you think that was enough?"

Gunnolf cracked his stiff neck, blood still pounding loudly through his ears as he chuckled bitterly. His vision was getting somewhat blurry. "Highly doubt it. He's a—"

Speak of the devil. His sensitive ears twitched upon sensing a disturbance, and without delay, everything surrounding Buu's resting place exploded into a blooming veil of ethereal pink smog. Concrete and steel splashed outward as it got mauled by concentrated ki, a large portion of the battered building's outer frame crumbling apart to rain down on the desolate streets below.

_Shit._ "He's a regenerator! Hit him with _everything_ you've got or we're dead!" Gunnolf hollered, his voice cracking with a sense of urgency and direness.

This time, there was no hesitancy from Electoplant. He steeled himself, pushing past his self-imposed restraints on lethal-grade Quirk usage. The cells and muscles throughout his body thrummed and buzzed rhythmically as his dynamo-like Quirk went into overdrive. Every drop of self-generated electricity surged and trickled painfully down his arms, focusing on a single point beyond his shaking palms.

A little orb composed of rotating golden filaments formed. He knew it wasn't enough, so he dug deeper. Circuits throughout his suit glowed red-hot as all of the capacitors overheated, becoming imbued with the raw power of lightning past their intended load. Within seconds, every insulating layer in his gloves withered away as the excess heat began to sear the skin in his hands.

The unstable orb crackled and distended dramatically to the point he couldn't contain it any longer, multiple electronics in his bodysuit short-circuiting and falling apart with brilliant sparks as he shoved his arms forward. **_"Stormburst!" _**He willed the electricity to seek the Villain with a strained shout.

One chaotic line of devastating energy unraveled into dozens of screaming comet-like projectiles, hurtling downrange into the walls of smoke—

—and right on target. Electrical lances flared up as they locked-onto Buu, merging into one massive stream just as they made contact with him. A warbled howl of pure anguish erupted through the haze. Close to a billion joules of energy drilled into his midsection, boiling away the tissue and tearing him apart as he collided against the building once again, the secondary and much larger shockwave produced blasting him out and through everything in his path.

Unnerving silence followed as the rubble settled below. The electrokinetic hero stumbled, the smell of charred circuitry rising around his overheated and dizzy body. He moved ahead to stand between the wounded Beast Hero and the Villain, fading wisps of electric currents wriggling through his spasming arms as he gazed at the wafting clouds of plaster and smoke obscuring the upper floors.

"I-I think I got him this time," Electoplant murmured reassuringly after another half-minute of stillness had passed. He was practically running on steam now. Luck was on their side, though. He had yet to face a Villain capable of handling _half _of that move's electrical output—

—the rubble at their feet began to shiver. No, it was _the street itself._

"_Sparky really hurt Buu..._" A disembodied voice gurgled, its pitch disturbingly warped as it echoed through the abandoned streets.

It was as if a bucket of ice-cold water was poured on Electoplant. "N-no way..." He whispered with dawning horror, the tremors racking his spent body worsening.

A low-pitched hiss blared through every wall and surface surrounding them. Its tone was like an old, discordant steam train whistle going off and just about to blow apart with pent-up pressure. What remained of Gunnolf's fur stood on its ends, the intensity of the static electricity snaking through the very air and street setting his senses on edge. How was Buu able to come back from _that_ so easily?!

"_Buu now really really make you go...** BYE-BYE!" **_The livid Majin _screamed _the last words at the top of his lungs, and it was as if a hundred ear-splitting grenades had gone off at once. Six stories worth of high-rise proceeded to glow a sickly pink as the shrill hollering and hissing reached an unnatural pitch. Structural beams and mortar detonated and flash-melted in an instant, the remaining structure crumbling into itself as potent tremors rumbled through the city with the Villain's terrible and worsening power outflow.

Waves of dust and debris buffeted the two heroes as they tried to crawl back and retreat, but they found their bodies refused to comply, completely paralyzed and afflicted by a distinctly malevolent force targeting them. The toxic rosy miasma permeating the air had them anchored to the spot.

Whatever it was, it was trying to crush them—not only physically but mentally.

Clouds of ash blew away with Buu's final and rather dramatic re-emergence, his mostly reconstructed cape and clothing fluttering madly through the self-generated tempest of hateful ki swirling around him, his imposing form deliberately descending towards the two that harmed him. Parts of his face and upper body were still partially melted and deformed, his healing somewhat hindered as he focused on summoning his otherworldly power. Billowing steam spewed out of the pits on his skull, his yellow gloves fully balled up by his sides as he bared his teeth.

Electoplant climbed to his knees and raised his arms, every muscle in his body feeling like they were encased in heavy lead. Sweat was starting to drip down his face as he attempted to draw upon his Quirk once more. First and second-degree burns dotted his torso and limbs wherever the suit's enhancements had failed, and his nerves felt like they were full of liquid fire. Every instinct in his mind demanded him to flee and avoid certain death.

Physical combat was out of the question for both himself and Gunnolf. If they were to make it out alive, he'd likely have to strike with a ranged attack, but he had nothing but fading embers left.

Buu was now only a few dozen feet from them, his golden boots hovering just above eye level. The road beneath the behemoth was melting away as the corrosive pink energy bubble surrounding his body made contact with it, its outermost edges cleaving everything in its path like a hot knife through butter.

Next to him, Gunnolf collapsed under the pressure.

They _had _to run. Electoplant widened his kneeling stance, pulling at every shred of leftover energy his Quirk could generate to produce a burst of blinding energy. Hopefully, it'd give them enough time to fall back. **_"Flash..." _**He intoned, frail lucent tendrils of arcing light flourishing into his hands—

Buu moved closer to them. Now the heat being produced by the raging pink sphere surrounding him was starting to blister the electrokinetic's skin. In seconds it'd burn them alive, no doubt.

_"_**_...bang..._**_" _Slivers of solidifying white light twinkled in his palms. He just needed a bit longer—

—something curious happened. Electoplant paused, puzzled. He stood still and held his breath, the collected energy for the _Flashbang _roiling through his fingers expectantly.

Buu's forward movement faltered, his irate expression going blank and vacant as if all life had left his body. All of the dreary and oppressive tension trying to crush them died away the moment the rosy bubble scattered, the constant flow of steam on the Majin's head sputtering into puffs of fading vapors.

The pink Villain's mouth then distended considerably as a..._boisterous yawn_ reached their ears.

Calmly dropping onto the razed and cratered street, the sleepy Majin cast a final pouty glare their way before throwing his arms in the air. "Buu tired. Sparky and Wolfy go bye-bye soon. Buu...nap now." Stubby limbs were stretched with baffling indifference before he whirled around and wobbled away from them, all signs of previous injuries already gone.

Buu proceeded to plop down without a care in the world, his back slouching as he went still. In a few seconds, all that could be heard in the devastated city block was the sound of fires, evacuation sirens, and bone-rattling _snoring_.

Snoring..._what?_

"...Sparky?" Electoplant repeated, his thoughts heavily scrambled by the ludicrous turn of events and neurons under-firing.

"Is...is he...?" Gunnolf stammered breathlessly as he observed the slumbering Villain from his prone position, unsure as to whether he felt deeply insulted or greatly relieved at the unexpected development. What kind of Villain fell asleep in the heat of battle?! He remained tense regardless of Buu's inactive state, his trembling body still reeling from the ominous aftereffects of the noxious energy and serious injuries.

If the last minutes were anything to judge the Villain's breadth of power by, perhaps this was a better outcome for them all.

Electoplant's shoulders slumped as he regained his composure and higher thought processes, letting out a long-held breath. The other heroes could wrap things up momentarily. He dropped onto his back, letting the excess electricity arcing through his suit to scatter harmlessly into the ground before answering Gunnolf's question. "Asleep? Sure seems like it. I...I am okay with this outcome."

Before the two could rest or ponder any further, a ringing hum filled the air behind them.

A needle-sized spacetime distortion roared to life just above the street. Within it a turbid void came to be, broadening into a portal to the unknown.

Gunnolf growled, untrusting as to what would come through. He forced himself up into an unsteady crouch, a hand resting protectively over his wounded back as he wobbled in place. He had a spinal injury, no doubt. Electoplant hobbled past him and moved ahead, his posture stooped with exhaustion and aches but he was just as unwilling to give up.

Was it another ploy of Buu's? The Beast Hero looked back; the snoring Villain had not moved an inch, his body was still slumped facing away from them and he could not sense that dreary aura of his anymore.

The Warp-like anomaly fluttered and moaned, its event horizon rippling outwards as a woman brandishing a bulky and intricate shield-themed staff hastily stepped through its stretching surface. Her piercing gaze was heavy and rigid as she took a defensive stance the moment she laid eyes of Buu.

"A-Aegis?" Electoplant blurted out. "What are you doing here?"

"You know what I am doing here," She snapped without skipping a beat, shifting her deep blue eyes to the electrokinetic hero before marching past him to assess the Villain that caused everyone so much grief.

Electoplant noted her costume had changed dramatically, shifting from the cheerful bright blues and yellows of years past to simplistic and downright utilitarian muted grays and blacks. A logo adorned her chest plate, the letters AFA elaborately stitched onto it in a crimson hue. She had even cut her famous waist-length blonde hair, which barely reached down to her ears now. Everything about her new suit and movements screamed _militaristic._

"How did you subdue them?" She queried cooly, her steely eyes scanning every inch of ravaged structure and the Majin's deceivingly harmless appearance as she neared him. Faint filaments of blue light were traveling down her shoulders and into her arms as she activated her Quirk, the staff's hollow channels slowly filling with it.

Gunnolf sensed the dubious and critical undertone in her question and it stung. What had _really_ happened? Was it the Villain's massive sugar intake that wrought this positive outcome? Or was it a side effect of a time-limited Quirk, or perhaps the wounds inflicted being too much?

"The Villain…he...he just—" The Beast Hero spluttered, racking his muddled mind for a rational answer in an irrational scenario. No matter how he tried to spin it, he found it incredibly hard to come to terms with the absurd outcome and his miserable failures today. How often did Pro Heroes apprehend a Villain just because they nodded off? He was beyond furious with himself.

Electoplant knew Aegis cared little for subtlety and he didn't feel like sugarcoating things today. Not after all of this. "He fell asleep just as he was about to tear us apart." He answered bluntly.

Gunnolf deflated, grumbling with pent-up frustration before nodding.

Aegis fully tilted her head towards them, a brow raised quizzically. The bizarre offshore Villain had tanked and trashed three state-of-the-art jets, torn up a beach and this part of town without breaking much of a sweat, causing at least sixteen casualties and millions in property damage. To think this pudgy thing could cause so much mayhem was unreal.

It was truly a miracle these two fools had made it out with their lives, and it was no wonder the military wanted the Villain out of sight and locked away. "Target appears inactive and ready for containment. Move-in." She barked the order into her earpiece, her staff already raised to point its cerulean crystal towards the snoring Villain as she moved into his personal space.

Currents of swirling azure energy traveled down her hands and into the high-tech staff's recessed grooves, where they coalesced into a thin lance of hard-light upon nearing the ragged crystal. The energy shot out and splashed inches away from the Majin's head tentacle, spreading down to form an impervious spheric containment barrier.

She walked around to face the corpulent Villain, her shoulders tight and tense, expecting him to awaken with the disturbance and put up a fight. There was no physical response. If anything, his slumber appeared to deepen; drool was now slipping down his open mouth.

How disgusting.

"Thank you for your help, heroes. You are relieved of your duties and may seek medical attention now. We got it from here." A dull, gravelly voice drew their attention to the open portal, where a sickly, long-haired man had phased through the inky fluid. Upon laying his boots on the road, the pervasive hum of the gateway died out, the dark energy dispersing to return to their cheerless creator.

His outfit matched Aegis' own, built out of heavily modified dark armor and black underlayers, although he appeared more technologically advanced. He hid most of his identifiable facial features behind an oversized domino mask. Dark bags rested under his sunken eyes, his skin tone a few shades shy from looking downright anemic. Portions of his suit were laden with mobility enhancers, its servo motors whirring as he moved closer to the Shield Heroine.

Electoplant nor Gunnolf could recognize the arrival, but they did know of the powerful Hero Agency branded on their breastplates.

In response to Aegis' radio order moments prior, the deafening roar of turbines announced the imminent arrival of backup in the form of three Air Force-marked VTOLs. The heavily armed aircraft maneuvered through the gaps between buildings and landed on the debris fields as close as they could to the downed Villain, their heavy frontal weapons swiveling to lock onto Buu as their loading bays opened. He did not move an inch.

Out of the largest of the three vessels, a gargantuan Iron Maiden emerged.

A multitude of Humvees arrived moments later, and more armed men poured into the scene to surround Aegis and Buu while the Iron Maiden was moved.

Aware of their limited usefulness at the moment, the two wounded heroes wasted little time limping out of their way to observe everything from the sidelines. Two men approached them to inquire about their encounter. It wasn't an enjoyable story to retell, but they elaborated on every aspect of their battle and the Villain's abilities and psychological profile.

Electoplant soon went off to seek medical aid, while Gunnolf refused any assistance until he saw the containment process through.

* * *

It didn't take long for the influx of Pro Heroes involved in Rio Del Mar beach to finally make it there, their frantic search for the Villain in the vicinity of the incident proving fruitless. By the time they had received the assistance request from Electoplant and the Police, it had been too late for most to make it in time.

Musket had been one of the first to arrive, and he paid the ultimate price.

Lieutenant-General Wayne Hayes landed in his helicopter shortly after to inform them and the local authorities of the Villain's international origin and his heinous attack on three Air Force aircraft, immediately claiming full authority and jurisdiction over his apprehension and containment. After that, there was little for the large group of heroes to do but to watch and assist the emergency crews as they searched nearby buildings in the unlikely event any civilians had failed to evacuate in time.

The specialized Iron Maiden now sat feet away from the slumbering Majin, its innards open and waiting for its first occupant. It was easily as wide and armored as an M1-Abrams battle tank, its interior housing top of the line containment systems. Four men dressed in medical garbs moved in, carrying an assortment of handheld devices towards the containment sphere Aegis created. They injected a gaseous solution of heavy sedatives and tranquilizers, ensuring the Villain would not wake up for a good while.

After some careful planning and use of pertinent Quirks, the Villain was slowly and painstakingly loaded into the awaiting Iron Maiden, where restrictive Quirk Dampening Devices snapped into place around his gut, arms, and head. Emerald fields of dampening energy flowed through his body as multiple layers of reinforced alloys finished coiling around him, the maws of the Iron Maiden snapping closed with the whirring of dozens of high-security locks. Through it all, he did not awaken once.

It was only then that Gunnolf relented, allowing himself to be tended by the medics just as he collapsed from his wounds and exhaustion, his Beastly form dispersing to display his battered human form.

As quickly as the massive group of military personnel had arrived, they departed. The VTOL aircraft took to the skies again, only leaving a few men on-site to scour through and analyze the gruesome scene.

Local news crews flocked to the tragic scene looking for answers. For the first time in quite some time, the authorities and heroes alike were as clueless as the public.

* * *

-! AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY !-

**Accessing FILE A-302 01. . .**

**PRELIMINARY REPORT 01**

As of 18:00 hours, subject **A-302**—identified as **"Buu"** by Pro Heroes that engaged him at the scene—has been successfully contained. Currently, we are en route to the Crypt complex. Special Forces agents Aegis and Dark Tide are escorting us.

In a matter of hours, the subject managed to wreak havoc on three separate incidents, each ending with an unacceptable death toll and significant property damage. The loss of civilian and Air Force assets coupled with their foreign origin increased the capture priority beyond typical thresholds for our involvement. Fortunately, the Special Forces were able to swiftly contain him without further incident. Ground teams are interviewing those on the scene for further combat and ability data.

We have reviewed footage from the two incident locations and our teams are perplexed. The Villain appears to be capable of moderate damage through some sort of directed-energy emitter-type Quirk. Not only that, but he demonstrated hyper-healing, drastic control of their body mass and density, and enhanced strength. They also possess the ability to fly or levitate at will. They appear to have an unhealthy obsession with sugar-laden foods, although we are uncertain as to how—or if—this connects with any of his abilities yet. Multiple reports claim the subject lost consciousness during the final engagement against two Pro Heroes.

At this moment, for all intents and purposes, they appear borderline comatose within the Iron Maiden.

Further research on their abilities and physical attributes will follow once the subject is secured within the facility.

**ADDITIONAL DATA: **The newly redesigned Iron Maiden is being utilized for their transport and final imprisonment, and so far, all new containment protocols appear active and 100% effective. For primary physical containment, a fully hermetic and layered eight-inch wall composed of steel, chromium and iridium alloy is being deployed. The composites should provide outstanding heat and kinetic force resilience within the vault.

Separate Quirk Dampening Devices are installed within the Maiden and cradling the subject at all times. Brain pattern scanners and tranquilizer dispensers are set up and active. Secondary and tertiary redundancies are in place to ensure continuous power supply to locking mechanisms and escape countermeasures. We should not have any incidents.

**UPDATE: **Still en route. We are somewhat concerned about the fact preliminary Iron Maiden bio-scans are struggling to find a heartbeat and other life signs to obtain a baseline. They appear to be 'breathing' and are clearly snoring. We are troubleshooting our systems to ensure the issue isn't on our end. Due to the unknown nature of the subject's multi-faceted Quirk(s) and metabolism, the team just utilized blend B-32, which includes high-end gaseous tranquilizers and additional Quirk Factor dampeners out of caution.

The Villain appears to still be unconscious and unresponsive. We will be arriving at the base in the next half hour.

We have so many questions. We'll make sure we find all the answers, even if we have to tear him apart for them.

**[ LOG END ]**

* * *

**A/N:**

I'm back! This took so much longer than expected. It's a whopper of a chapter and so much fun to write. At first, I was going to split it into two, but it didn't feel right. No worries, his trip to America won't last much longer.

Buu's seemingly 'contained' for now, by people who know nothing about him and severely underestimate him and what he is capable of. Unfortunately for them, things will go south rather quickly. Soon enough he's going to encounter a party interested in him and willing to do anything to have him join. Things will get really interesting next chapter.

Some unfortunate souls will end up finally facing a certain sugary magical beam too.

I'll be going over these chapters again over the next week to ensure I didn't miss anything. I'm changing the formatting on the other two but it should be mostly the same(especially removing the italics on names). Please do remember this won't be an outright curb stomp, for now, I want heroes to try their best and will try to make a few interesting/amusing challenges. I want to make it enjoyable, and I want to push them all to their mental/physical breaking point and see what they're willing to do when the stakes keep getting higher. I hope you enjoyed this mess! Until next time.


	5. The Calm Before The Storm

**CHAPTER 5: THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM**

* * *

The damage wrought by the dimensional rupture continued to resonate throughout the world, unfettered. Its chaotic effects rippled through the very fabric of the universe, unseen by all, as they sunk into every atom within reach...

Even now, there were many seemingly insignificant changes taking place. Out of all of the discrepancies, one stood above most. It was a truly momentous and pivotal divergence event for humanity, all rooted within one man's desperate decision as their world began to unravel...

* * *

_Was it over?_

The Symbol of Peace gasped for air as he pulled back his shaky, smoking and badly mangled fist. All around him, the dangerous metal constructs previously trying to kill him crumbled apart, their malicious puppeteer bested. Beneath him, he could feel the battered I-tower shudder in protest, still reeling from the destructive power unleashed at its summit.

He glanced down to assess the damage to his body. He was a damn mess and barely holding onto his muscular form. His trademark costume laid in tatters, the skin beneath bruised and bloodied from the relentless hits he had taken. Stifling a pained hiss, he tried to straighten himself without aggravating his internal injuries or losing his balance. As a response, his body shuddered with another wave of pain that raced down his cracked rib cage and through his tender abdomen, eliciting an involuntary groan and wheeze of coppery fluids up his windpipe.

This was nothing new. _He'd endure._

What mattered above all else was that Wolfram was finished.

…

...

He had to admit that for a brief moment, as he spat up blood for what felt like the umpteenth time on the ravaged rooftop, he had felt doubt gnawing at his heart. Doubt that he could take on the monstrous, twisted form Wolfram had taken as he wielded the Quirk Amplification Device.

Doubt that _he_ was enough.

As it was the case more and more lately, young Midoriya's unyielding resolve came to the rescue, allowing him to push himself past his self-imposed limitations to go _Plus Ultra, _ending the fight with an unexpected surge of power that turned the tides in an instant.

_Speaking of which... _

He paused to observe the turbulent wisps of golden electricity arcing through his massive forearms and chest. A frown marred his sharp features as the warm twinge of raw and unbridled power that was One For All burned throughout his body at an abnormal rate.

"How's this even possible?" He whispered, unsettled at seeing _and _feeling the broken bones and wrecked tissue trying to knit themselves at a pace he hadn't experienced in years, the process only hindered by the toll it took upon his abysmal health. There were so many questions running through his mind.

He forced the wave of regenerative energy to recede. If it went on any further, he feared he'd pass out...or worse.

Kneeling by his old friend, he set aside those concerns for later, focusing instead on wrapping a ripped piece of clothing around the bullet wound to curb the bleeding.

Wary of surprise attacks, he glanced at Wolfram out of the corner of his eye. To his relief, the beaten Villain was hanging limp from a torn support beam, his wrinkled skin steaming and charred. In the aftermath of the battle, his musculature had collapsed, with every ounce of hypertrophied muscle burned away into nothing. He now looked downright skeletal and mummified, perhaps a devastating feedback effect from the prototype device's untimely destruction during battle.

It reminded him far too much of his own frail, pathetic state...

A hefty price to pay for great power.

_Power._ He ground his teeth, seething in silence as his thoughts drifted to All For One. It was clear his nemesis had entrusted Wolfram with some sort of muscle-enhancing Quirk, wielding yet another bloodthirsty pawn in his deadly games against him and everything he stood for. His conniving scheming truly knew no bounds.

He wouldn't rest until that murderous, thieving fiend was thrown in Tartarus for good!

But for now, he had more immediate concerns. After gathering his troubled thoughts, the Symbol of Peace regarded his former sidekick, his voice tired and weary. "I've heard most of what happened from Melissa." A hint of disappointment slipped through in his tone.

David's shoulders slumped as he unconsciously averted his gaze, the guilt he felt at the whole ordeal tearing at him. "It's all true. I was so scared you'd lose your light. Scared that the peace you built as a hero would fade away with you."

Toshinori scoffed softly. It was all he could do, for his friend's words resonated far too clearly within him as well, making his throat stiff and bone dry. For him, that irrational fear manifested itself through grueling nightmares that plagued him almost nightly. So many dreams orbited around his inevitable loss of One For All while he watched those in need suffer.

_He'd wither away to nothing, and their cries would echo through the night as they called out his name in vain..._

What haunted him above all else was the apparition of All For One looming triumphantly in the background as he unleashed eldritch monstrosities from his very flesh and onto the vulnerable world. A twisted, inky, outstretched maw-like appendage siphoning the Quirk and life force off of every hapless victim he willed towards his form, their wasted bodies then getting cast aside as if they were nothing but trash, his terrible power growing by the second...

...

David was wrong, though. Deep down, Toshinori _knew_ peace would not fade away with such ease. He would never allow it to happen, even if it meant his untimely demise. As long as there was hope, justice would always prevail.

A hollow chuckle from the scientist brought him back to reality. "My ideas and that cursed device were nothing more than desperate attempts to maintain the status quo. To ensure that nothing would ever change..." David paused, sighing despondently as he held back the surge of emotions threatening to spill over. In the end, it had all been such a hopeless endeavor.

He tried to stand up, but a flash of pain made his legs give out.

All Might lend him a helping hand. Finding his footing, David turned his glassy eyes towards the green-haired and rather beaten young man being supported by his daughter on the rubble nearby. "I did that...even though the future was standing in front of me the whole time; I just didn't notice it. Toshi, look at those two. She wants to become my successor, you know that? And you...you have Izuku Midoriya. He'll take your place one day...won't he?"

Those last words came out as a broken, melancholic whisper. Just thinking about All Might's era fading away into history was truly depressing. Its effects through society would be widespread and unspeakably profound...and surely not for the better.

The Symbol of Peace nodded meekly, his mind a hazy mess as he gazed back at young Midoriya's wincing form thoughtfully. His successor waved at them frantically with a brilliant and infectious smile. He reciprocated it as best as he could before responding. "He still has a long road ahead. But...in him shines the greatest potential I have ever seen among those who will become great heroes."

"I knew it," David asserted with a dull, crooked smile as he turned to face Toshi, his suspicions confirmed with the indirect avowal.

It all made sense now; the weight on his shoulders and heart lessened somewhat. Perhaps the future wouldn't be so bleak in All Might's absence. Izuku _did_ mirror a lot of Toshi's personality traits, to a fault even. His lips quirked up further. "I can see it too; hope. An unwavering light just like yours. That boy has the heart of a hero."

"That he does." Toshinori agreed, pride swelling in his chest with the remark. Moments like this made him wish he had the guts to face Nighteye one more time to tell him he had been _wrong_. He had made the right decision; Izuku Midoriya was _the one._

_And he was worthy of it all._

His brilliant smile then faltered as he faced David again, his features twisting with pain, turmoil, and indecision as he settled an arm over his tender ribs, his mind finally meandering to the subject he had been skirting all along. "Listen...I need to ask you something,"

David turned to him expectantly.

Toshinori faltered. It was as if he were standing on the ledge of a bottomless pit. He took a deep breath. Or tried to, at least, but his throat threatened to clamp shut. He grits his teeth, hellbent on pushing through his trepidation. "About that device..."

David's posture slumped once more as he ran a trembling hand over his face. He couldn't fathom a proper way to apologize or make up for this damn mess. "Yeah I know, it was such a stupid, _stupid_ idea! I don't know what I was thinking, I'm sorry—"

His apology was hastily interrupted. "No, no. It's—David, you don't understand!" Toshinori raised his voice in frustration as he paced back and forth. The frustration wasn't directed at David but towards himself, the sickening feeling settling in his gut making it hard to gather the courage to mutter those three fateful words...and take the final step off the proverbial ledge.

His heart quickened to the point it felt like it'd burst out of his chest. After another moment of hesitation, he closed his eyes, taking the plunge at last. "I need—" He paused to correct himself, "No, _w__e _need it."

Pin drop.

"Wait..._what_?" The frazzled scientist did a double-take upon hearing the unexpected request, the haunted look he was being given setting off _so many red flags_. "What's going on, Toshi?"

All Might settled his recessed, gleaming eyes on the ocean surrounding I-Island and the imminent, breathtaking sunrise. It was going to be a beautiful morning…but if he strained his eyes and focused further beyond, he could see dark and ominous storm clouds beginning to gather.

And with that, his thoughts drifted to the unsettling events that unfolded earlier in the night...

He went ahead and told David _everything_.

He explained how just a few hours ago—while he had been trapped within the emergency restraining device activated by Wolfram—he had felt it. _Unfathomable, wanton destruction. Death. Calamity. _He witnessed_ the whole planet burning. _The emotions imbued within the premonition lanced through the vestigial embers linking him to One For All like lightning, breathing life into it as the shadowy souls of its previous wielders beckoned to him in ways they never had before. His body had spasmed and seized up miserably as every disembodied voice desperately reached out to him with the same muddled but dire warning.

Right then, a foreboding and dreadful sensation had spilled through his spine and every limb, freezing him in place. At the peak of it all, an unholy and guttural roar had pierced through his senses. With it came a dark veil of overwhelming and malevolent energy that rattled him to the core. And as quick as it had come, it was gone.

Like standing in the eye of a hurricane, he knew this was but a taste of what was to come.

Was it All For One? Did he finally manage to find a way to enhance his wicked powers further? The answer eluded him. What he knew was that not even his great nemesis in his prime had ever made him feel this absolute sense of impotence and impending doom. Even now as the unpleasant feeling had long faded, the shiver-inducing unease and anxiety refused to let go.

Turning to face his old friend, Toshinori's eyes were filled with uncertainty as he spoke. He tried to maintain what remained of his steadfast front. "Something terrible is coming, David. I-I'm not sure if it's _him_. There are so many questions, and I don't have a single answer. I've never felt anything like this before."

The tenacious and impervious facade of All Might then shattered, and David saw every grim emotion flooding through. "Whatever it is, I...I don't know if I-if _we _can stop it on our own."

With that, the disquieting fear and uncertainty spread like a tumor to infect David's own thought processes. No. All Might did not fear anything. He...he could take on anything or anyone...right? He balled his fists. He wanted to argue and counter Toshi's statement but in the end, he held back, choosing to nod in grim understanding and ultimately, resolve.

If he was right, an unimaginable danger was looming over everyone. Really, how often had he _ever _heard Toshi doubt himself?

This...this was something else. If he believed this could even out the odds one bit, he'd give it his all. "I'll do everything in my power to help, Toshi."

No more words needed to be spoken. Both men stood up and straightened themselves as best as they could, facing the sunrise as they took a deep breath and steeled their nerves. The students were climbing through the rubble towards them and they couldn't risk getting them involved. Not yet, at least. They had gone through enough as it were.

There was so much to do…and it seemed like time was running out already...

* * *

What a riveting development.

It had taken some time, but eventually, the stubbornly persistent radio chatter became intriguing enough to rouse him from his iatric slumber. Life support systems receded around his body as he shifted the mobile medical bay into an upright position.

He needed to see this for himself.

_Technopath_ was activated with a fleeting thought. Luminous, neon-tinged tendrils of electricity spread out of his fingers and into the idle consoles, the sickly glow seeping into every component like a festering disease until the devices yielded to his will. Another Quirk was then summoned; this one acquired back in the early twentieth century from a formidable typhlotic warrior in Korea. Dazzling arrays of vivid colors, depth and shapes were instantly projected into his visual cortex, rendering biological eyesight extraneous.

The cavernous tactical room reawakened, and the countless workstations and monitors mounted on its walls resumed their surveillance endeavors on I-Island, distracting him briefly from his current interest.

He probed the networks for a live feed. Dozens of error messages piled up on every system as the island's security countermeasures rejected the new intrusion. "To think it took all of you this long to regain control of your rogue systems...how embarrassing." He quipped, still reeling from the grand disappointment their abysmal digital resistance had caused.

As expected, Wolfram nor his men were responding to his hails. Pity...that meant their primary objective was forsaken and an absolute failure. They were likely already loaded up into Iron Maidens for a final trip into Tartarus. Every whisper regarding the amplification device was tantalizing, but with a petty criminal like him involved, it was bound to end in crippling failure—even with the _gift _he had provided.

Not all was in vain, however, for all he truly cared about was that All Might was weathered some more. In that aspect, Wolfram had served his purpose with excellence; even more so considering he was just an expendable means to an end.

Little by little, his dazzling light was fading. Soon enough One For All would not dwell within him, and the Symbol of Peace would be no more.

The time was near; he could feel it in his blood and deep in his bones...a thrill unlike any other. His final battle against Toshinori Yagi. With his defeat and inevitable demise, no hero, government, nor military entity would be able to oppose him. His unrivaled power and influence would then spread through Japan and the world at large. All would be reshaped in his image, and his kingdom would be boundless and everlasting. Finally, those following his footsteps would never need to live in the shadows ever again.

Retribution would be swift, absolute, and delightful.

He checked on his underlings and their progress. Everything was as it should be; the pawns were on the move like a well-oiled machine. In a few days, the Legion of Villains and the newly formed Vanguard Action Squad would deal another crippling blow to Hero Society, and by extension, to All Might. He only hoped Tomura's unhealthy obsession with capturing the unpredictable Katsuki Bakugo wouldn't backfire—

He shook his head, breaking away from the wandering, monologuist thoughts. _On to the current subject of interest..._

The monitors and hard disks buzzed. _Technopath _made short work of twelve Gigabytes worth of data, the many recordings being instantly downloaded, sorted chronologically and then played for him.

Musutafu's blue skies darkening ominously with abnormal, cyclonic clouds. A burning object streaking through the heavens. A crater that was more befitting of a Western space opera, shattering an unimportant urban center.

Members of the glorified yet underwhelming_ First Response Unit_, taken down in the blink of an eye by the corpulent, bubblegum-like Villain that arose from the crater. _Pathetic, but not shocking in the least._

Said corpulent bubblegum-like Villain breaking into a pastry shop, of all places.

Expectedly, Pro Heroes brashly jumping in for their minute of vainglory; two he knew and one he did not, inflicting needless havoc and violence without first attempting discourse.

He witnessed the gluttonous Villain fiercely smash and bury Gunhead's helpless little skull into a wall while getting pelted with projectiles point-blank; a brutal image he'd cherish for quite some time. The musclehead known as Death Arms did not fare any better, even with his enhanced physical prowess. The other insignificant and brightly colored whelp flashed some sort of useless photon Quirk out of his hands. He was smacked away like week-old trash.

Like a predator closing in on his prey, he continued to analyze the footage, painstakingly dissecting the fascinating chaos unraveling in his domain without his explicit knowledge. _That wouldn't do_. All of his attention was focused upon this man now. From his djinn-like costume to every little frivolous action taken on a whim and without a care in the world...

"Again." His will was done, and this time the recording was cropped to focus on the newcomer, multiple angles appearing on each screen from various media drones scouting the battle and a single news helicopter.

He watched Death Arms slug the obese Villain into a burning vehicle, which proceeded to explode in a glorious blaze of flames.

Upon further inspection, he discovered that the detonation had destroyed his body. Down to a pulp, perhaps. Yet, within seconds, nary a wound remained. "Is it _Advanced Regeneration_? No, _Hyper Regeneration_." He mused out loud, going back to replay the last ten seconds.

"Even his garments were reconstructed." He noted with barely contained wonder. Just as his rosy flesh mended itself, every inch of clothing seemed to blink back into existence as if they were an actual part of his body. Simply astounding. How was _that_ feat of convenient matter manipulation possible? He idly wondered if it could restore his broken-down body.

An intriguing theory that had to be tested.

His favorite scene played next, and it was chill-inducing and unforgettable. A guttural scream of instantaneous annihilation. Nothing stood in the wake of the barbaric Fuschia mouth blast. The helicopter broadcast went offline as it plummeted, the audio feed being overloaded by the terrified screams of its passengers. The destruction ravaged everything in its path with impunity, including the meddlesome Pro Heroes.

All done without question or hesitation.

Another helicopter broadcast started, sharing a wide-angle view of the mile-long earthly carving. The carnage was a breathtaking thing to behold, and it made him grin with elation. He was certain the death toll would be terribly high with such an upsurge of exotic annihilative power in the hyper-dense urban environment.

It truly set the bar high. He'd be mindful when he battled Toshinori and ensure he laid waste to _twice as much_ of the city.

"I wonder," Sifting through the sizable collection of earth-shattering Quirks at his disposal, he attempted to assess and match the powers wielded by the peculiar stranger. "Certainly emitter-type, that one. Was it thermokinetic manipulation? A laser-like emission?"

Ah, so many possibilities for mass destruction and battlefield domination—

His heart fluttered upon seeing the man suddenly rise to the skies. A derivative of _Air Walk_? No; the magnificent wave of wasted kinetic force that shredded everything below as he disappeared into the heavens made it implausible.

The man was defying gravity. _He was flying._

A wide, versatile breadth of raw power waiting to be exploited…no—_to be taken. _

Silence reigned around him. He idly rubbed the deep, ragged scars covering his mangled nose and hollow eye sockets as he collapsed back into the comfortable life support cradle, pondering on all of the possibilities this presented.

Resuming the playthrough, he found out that in a matter of seconds, the pink anomaly was out of sight of most of the cameras under his command. He looked at the timestamp; less than an hour had transpired. He had no doubt his prey would disappear from Musutafu, and perhaps Japan altogether soon enough.

For hours he sat unmoving, obsessively wielding _Technopath_ to monitor countless local systems and broadcasts. When that bore no fruit, he broke into the subpar public surveillance network in North Korea, and then South Korea's. He found nothing of interest there either. Vexing, to say the least.

No matter, he was patient. He was all-seeing and his target would _not_ escape his grasp.

All For One enhanced the Quirk's output, absolute influence, and reach. He tapped into the trickier Russian and Chinese networks next. Upon getting no results, an encrypted message was sent to his vast network of agents across Japan and the lands beyond.

_**'Find him.'**_

He waited.

Nearly three hours later, his perseverance paid off. His agents had been worthless and he almost missed it; a seemingly mundane online news broadcast from the Americas replaying the footage of a lycanthropic Pro Hero facing off against what they believed to be a run-of-the-mill Villain...

An obese, conspicuous, pink-skinned, cape-wearing Villain.

_His prey._

"Ah, there you are. How unexpected to see you all the way out there," He cooed affectionately, rather startled with his current whereabouts. To be so brash and tempt fate abroad merely hours after his previous attacks! Was it arrogance borne from great trials in battle, or was it just puerile overconfidence? Yet again, he was left in awe as the rascal found himself in the middle of another fierce battle, this one unraveling into full close-quarters combat.

He observed.

Initially, it appeared the pink hooligan was at a disadvantage against the larger, extremely aggressive and abnormally muscular hero, with every single hit staggering him and twisting his features in painful ways. His assumption was fast proven wrong, for he appeared to be only toying with the ireful hero. Truly, his portly physicality did not match his raw strength. His methods were brutal and appallingly simplistic, but also devastating and effective—

Oh, there goes another meddling hero. The patriotic interloper paid a hefty price for his worthless interference. He almost winced upon hearing the sickening crack of ribs and caved-in sternum. _Almost. _

For the briefest of moments, the lycanthrope went on a brutal grief-induced rampage, all in hopes of downing his enemy once and for all. Yet it wasn't meant to be. Even though his upper body was struck and turned to meaty ooze, it did not slow him down. Then, in a display of craftiness—and perhaps the ultimate, cruel show of supremacy—the caped Villain transformed his head into a set of limbs while also making his body impervious to damage.

"_Complete Body Manipulation_ and _Nigh __Imperviousness_. This is getting preposterous now, young man." He chuckled with unbridled glee and a hint of covetousness.

Immediately after, the hefty fiend went on the offensive to trounce the lycanthropic hero decisively. A thunderclap later, he ended crashing and burning into and _through_ the street, his body spent and bloodied as he mingled in the city's raw sewage.

Then something interesting happened. A sphere of light emerged on the pink menace's gloved hands, and another great detonation bloomed through the city, quite similar to the mouth-blast from Musutafu, but at a smaller scale. "You're able to unleash your emitter Quirk from most of your body. My, the surprises just keep on coming."

Another hero joined the fray. The electrokinetic launched a lightning onslaught, their desperation and fear too evident. All For One smiled as he watched the aggravated child-like ruffian re-merge from the point of impact mostly unscathed. High-amperage electric discharges were rather obnoxious, even to someone as powerful as himself. That man's resilience was exceptional and made his itch to battle him worsen.

The Villain was hit once again, the interloper's lightning emission strong enough to temporarily disable the recording equipment this time. He slowed down the footage. His body had been _torn apart into splatter_ just before the screen blacked out.

Yet again he came back. This time, the earth shook beneath the battlefield as he hovered, his form enveloped in swirling walls of fury and destruction. Every sensor he had tapped into registered a localized temblor. A final detonation imbued with an ear-wrenching scream followed, and every camera went offline permanently.

"Bravo." He whispered, his bemused clapping echoing through the room. For the first time in years—no, decades—he was nearly struck speechless.

No matter what it took, those fantastic Quirks would be _his _to command. His smile turned predatory and ravenous, his pristine pearly whites contrasting dramatically against the mangled layers of scar tissue that coated every inch of his face.

He reminisced. Through the last century, he had encountered a conservative number of formidable Quirk wielders capable of incredible feats of power. When he did, he made sure their power became his own. From despicable glory hogs to naive bastions of hope, they were all felled by his ever-growing arsenal of death and chaos, their abilities inevitably becoming his to wield.

Like clockwork, the impulsive, compelling desire to possess that which wasn't his own took over his thought processes. He knew there was no alternative...he had to take those Quirks no matter the cost.

Oh, he had so much work to do.

"Doctor," He queried the network for the obfuscated and heavily encrypted connection leading to the reclusive man's base, a question burning in his mind. Once the call was active, he pressed on. "Is there anything you need to tell me?"

"Sensei," The good Doctor swiveled in his chair to greet him. His stout body was hunched over and still partially hidden within the dreary long shadows of one of his labs as he hummed a merry tune very unfit for the decrepit and gruesome ambiance.

Beside him rested an inactive Nomu, the useless, sawed-off top portion of his skull set on a small operating table. His bloodied hands were grasping medical devices that were partially inserted into the modified and hyperdeveloped cerebral tissue, which he had just finished tinkering with for the time being. Dozens of electrodes and medical devices were connected into the Nomu's nervous system, its limbs twitching erratically as if it were a mere meat puppet. A descriptor not too far from the truth.

His green goggles glistened as he appraised the image that was delivered to his monitors. "Ah, I've been meaning to keep an eye on him. I read a vague news report but missed the live broadcasts." He motioned to the inactive Nomu as he discarded the oversized surgical gloves. "The specialty ones have kept me quite busy. Some of them should be ready to deploy in two days at most, once the programming is completed and they stabilize."

All For One nodded appreciatively. Just what he expected to hear, and right on time as the norm. "Understandable, and quite the wonderful news at that. As for my question, allow me to show you _everything_." He transferred the data collected so far.

The Doctor instantly dropped all of his dreadful tools of the trade, his obsessive tendencies showing forthwith as he cast the Nomu aside. Minutes passed in silence as the bald-headed scientist finished watching the footage with bated breath. All For One waited, his fingers entwined as he rested his chin on them.

"This is...that—no, _those_ Quirks are something else!" The Doctor remarked with quivering lips, fumbling with his words in palpable and frantic excitement. However, a bushy brow was raised in confusion the moment the accusation from earlier sank in. "I'm sorry. Sensei, what were you implying exactly?"

Chuckling mirthfully, the Symbol of Evil tilted his head to one side. "You know what I am implying. Are you telling me you had no play in this whatsoever? No side project running amok behind my back to further your Quirk research, Doctor?"

The mad scientist did not respond for some time as he replayed and digested the footage some more, the only sign he had heard the accusation being a deep frown and a sporadic eye tick. "As much as I'd like to take credit for this, I am afraid this wondrous subject is not of my doing. I would never go behind your back, Sensei. _Never_. You know that. I don't even have enough spare time to focus on side projects." He stated, his voice plaited with frustration.

He wasn't frustrated by Sensei's question. No, he was frustrated and disappointed by the fact that _he_ should have been the mastermind behind this magnificent feat of bioengineering!

Gauging the affronted reaction, it was highly unlikely that Doctor Garaki was lying; he appeared to be as mystified as he himself had been with the newcomer. Untrusting of mere physical cues, All For One activated _Mendacity_. Upon finding no deceit in his answer, he dropped the subject. He was a very smart man to maintain his loyalty; the alternative would not be pleasant in any way. "My most sincere apologies, Doctor. You must understand my plight. Let us move on then, shall we? What do you think of him?"

The Doctor huffed, quickly discarding his crimson-stained gloves to scratch his bristly mustache. He moved closer to the screen replaying the most relevant scenes, tapping a finger on the smudged glass. "Based on this, I can only wildly guess at his Quirk arsenal. It is not natural. It can't be."

"An intriguing theory and rational conclusion," All For One praised, enthralled by such possibilities. He truly missed the times when the brave and naive attempted to oppose him. "Do we have another party finally stepping into the spotlight, then? Could it be the Japanese government growing bold and desperate, or is it merely a clandestine organization seeking relevance?" No matter who they were, he'd enjoy crushing them beneath his feet.

Doctor Garaki hummed thoughtfully. "Too many possibilities and variables, Sensei. It's troublesome to even think others have advanced this far in such a short timeframe. I believe it is of utmost importance we capture him and extract the answers ourselves. " He concluded with a twisted grin and mischievous glint in his eyes.

That they did. With such an impressive death count, the newcomer had sent the authorities and heroes in Japan into an upheaval worthy of All For One's praise. But, having escaped their grasp, it was now a matter of who managed to get to him first.

With that in mind, he queried the Western networks for updates...and discovered he had been apprehended. Unfortunate, but not a shocking development in the least. Noting the involvement of the pesky American military and their so-called Special Forces, he was all but certain of where they'd be taking him.

Now that he knew where to begin his hunt, his servants abroad received new orders. He had eyes and ears _everywhere_.

"So do I, Doctor." All For One resumed his discourse after an extended pause. "Let's make this happen. I will take care of the arrangements. Continue your great work, and I will contact you again soon." With an approving nod from Doctor Garaki, the call ended. He then shifted his attention to another monitor, this one feeding him a live feed from a decrepit bar located in Kamino, Yokohama; the League of Villain's main base of operations.

Toga and Dabi—the newest additions to the League, courtesy of Giran—sat quietly on the barside, while his protege sulked at the far end of the room in his chosen gritty corner. There, he had set a table next to a faulty Jukebox to satisfy his penchant for seclusion. The wall was littered with recently added All Might posters, all of which had been stabbed, ripped, and cut at Tomura's leisure. Currently, his sunken eyes were glued to a mobile device settled in his grasp.

"Kurogiri," All For One beckoned the Warp Gate wielder, his voice as smooth as ever. Everyone in the room turned to face the source of his voice as Kurogiri side-stepped into view.

As it was the norm, Kurogiri could not see his master through the one-way call, being forced to rely only on the audio broadcast for communication. "Hello, Sensei." He greeted, his ghastly silhouette barely visible in the obscured bar as he bowed in reverence.

"Master…" Tomura whispered, his raspy tone laden with reverence.

"Good evening. I hope everything is well with all of you. Kurogiri, I am going to need you to arrange a meeting. We may have yet another vital piece to add to the board before we make our next move. I hope this is not an issue."

The Warp Gate user nodded crisply. "Not at all, Sensei. If I may ask, what is my destination? Back to Tokyo?"

"Oh, no, it is not Tokyo nor Japan. Your destination will be in America. California, to be precise. I will contact you when I get a specific location. Prepare yourself."

Kurogiri's thoughts ground to a halt. He did his best to hide his surprise as broken memories from his earlier stints abroad resurfaced. Quite a few were rather unpleasant, and most of them were in that hostile State. The military-backed heroes he had encountered had been a nightmare to deal with. Was this an extraction? So many questions—

A familiar stabbing pain shot through his head as other conflicting memories attempted to emerge. The compelling subconscious force buried the troublesome thoughts instantly. No, he would not question All For One, ever. "It shall be done, Sensei."

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to." The broadcast went offline. Kurogiri sighed, turning to face the curious faces waiting for answers.

"What was that about?" Tomura Shigaraki blurted out. He actually sounded somewhat lively, for once.

Dabi—who had been previously dozing off—chimed in. "Huh. Must be someone really important to have you travel that far."

"I am not sure, to be honest with you." He answered. "I do not know who it is. Rest assured Sensei knows what he is doing."

It was true. He trusted All For One with his very life. The man was a true tactician and he couldn't hope to comprehend his great schemes.

"Yay, it sounds like we're going on a road trip~" Toga sang cheerfully in that high-pitched tone of hers as she stabbed an oversized knife onto the expensive wooden surface of the bar...for the third time that evening.

Kurogiri grumbled and sighed again.

* * *

**Mojave Desert**

**[ California ]**

The Crypt was by far one of the toughest and most secure penitentiary complexes in the Southwest. Some locals even believed it gave Tartarus—the infamous Japanese Super Prison—a good run for its money. Unlike the publicly funded prison in the Far East, The Crypt was privately run by the Air Force and the remnants of Homeland Security as a semi classified joint operation. There were a total of six other prisons operated by them throughout the United States.

The sprawling center sat deep within the crust of the uninhabited Mojave Desert, right below the former Fort Irwin National Training Center, with most of the original above-ground structures either getting repurposed or outright demolished to house the imposing eight-story topside fortress and its vast security systems. Billions of dollars had been diverted over the last decades to build, expand and reinforce the facility as the number of devastating Quirk users grew out of the government's control, their local prison systems woefully inadequate to house them safely.

Most Americans knew little to nothing about what went on _or_ what happened to the hapless Villains within these facilities. The truth was that most did not care anyway. Out of sight, out of mind, as some would say.

Today had been a rather average an uneventful day on the surface. The guards at each imposing tower stood still, their eyes never leaving the surveillance network or the broad view of the expansive and blistering desert around them.

A distinctive claxon then went off.

The base descended into controlled chaos as a detachment of four armored personnel carriers rolled out of the barracks and into the runway. Within seconds, the carrier's doors slammed down and six elite soldiers marched out of each vehicle, their protective bodysuits loaded to the teeth with Quirk-suppressing devices and conventional rifles. On top of the armored vehicles, a gunner stood behind a _GAU-2/A _Minigun, ready to disperse 7.62×51mm NATO rounds at a moment's notice.

In the skies above, three Air Force VTOL aircraft were coming in hot, their turbine roar deafening all as they transitioned their adjustable thrusters to land between the waiting teams. Pneumatics on the cargo bay door of the largest vessel whirred to life, hissing and groaning loudly as soon as the engines spooled down.

Eight Quirk-suppressing devices went online and sixteen rifles stood at the ready. Soon enough the soldiers got a view of the military-grade Iron Maiden within. Through the forward-facing observation window, they got their first glimpse at the unmoving pink figure, its bloated face easily dwarfing their own. Its eyes and mouth were slanted and curved upward in oblivious contentment. Loud and deeply grating snoring resonated through the hollow Iron Maiden like a buzzsaw, sending vibrations down the walls of the vessel.

Seeing this, the men shifted restlessly. Typically, the Villains being dragged into The Crypt would be screaming and hollering on their way down. To see someone so serene as they were being taken into permanent confinement felt wrong and downright disquieting.

Then again, they were captured rather easily. So it was likely there was nothing to worry about—

"Don't be fooled by his serene demeanor," A cold, feminine voice answered their unspoken question brazenly as her toned figure stepped past the Iron Maiden. It was Torchbearer, one of the most powerful American Pro Heroes and one of the Great Ten in the Special Forces. Her closed fists were glowing a faint turquoise beneath her gray cloak with subdued waves of self-generated plasma as she set the Maiden into motion, her bright amber eyes fixated on the sleeping Villain as she scanned the Maiden's systems for signs of unrest. She did not trust these containment systems, and deep down, she was itching for a fight.

Turning to the unsettled men, she continued. "Believe it or not, doughboy here shredded your fancy jets and killed two of your pilots with minimal effort. We also lost a Pro Hero and over a dozen civilians in town—all of this in a matter of _minutes_."

Some of the younger men visibly reeled, their stances stiffening as they tightened their grip on their weapons.

"Relax, we've got everything under control." A man reassured dismissively as he exited the VTOL. His tech-rich suit configuration was unmistakable; it was Dark Tide. "Torchbearer, cut it out already. You're scaring them." He chided as he stepped down to walk alongside the chuckling Plasma user, each taking a position by the Maiden's sides. Just before taking off, he had Warped the hotheaded hero into the aircraft to ensure they had a heavy-hitter in case things went awry. So far, it looked like the decision had been a waste of energy _and _patience.

"He's right," Behind them, the Shield Heroine Aegis stepped forth, her staff idly glowing with energy after the containment bubble had dispersed moments before. "He's unconscious. We can deal with him. You're all dismissed." She voiced with well-practiced authority.

More than a few sets of shoulders slumped in relief. Even with having a decent number of Quirk users within their ranks, it was a daunting endeavor to face Villains capable of taking down actual Pro Heroes with ease. At least they had the firepower and technology to even the odds.

The Iron Maiden proceeded to move on its own power past the dismissed soldiers and towards the main gates of The Crypt without incident, and the heroes followed it quietly without missing a beat. Beneath them, the earth grumbled as the massive meter-thick entry gate crept open, giving way to a long, darkened hallway stocked with defense weaponry, high-tech equipment, and a sizable elevator at its end.

"Please hold still for clearance." One of the men working on the security checkpoint spoke just as a large number of automated turrets focused on them. The other man—who had a plethora of high-tech devices directly fused into his extremities—raised an arm towards them. Emerald-hued scanning arrays blossomed from his open palm as his Quirk probed for weapons or other potential threats.

"They're clear." He announced shortly after, allowing them to proceed into the cramped spaces of the industrial elevator.

Two men in pristine white lab coats joined them just before the doors closed.

"No further incidents, I take it?" The older and partially bald man questioned, his eyes only leaving the large datapad in his arm to eye their newest subject. He lazily acknowledged the heroes with a passing nod. His nametag read _'_C. Millers, Senior Head Researcher'.

"Lopez, sync up with the Maiden." He quipped before anyone could answer his initial question. Next to him, the bright-eyed assistant nodded before tinkering with the Maiden's consoles.

"They're still out. Not even a blink since I bubbled 'em up in Santa Cruz." Aegis responded, her face marred with a frown. She was still perplexed about the whole ordeal. Nothing about this incident made any sense. To think this all started with a break-in on a darned _bakery..._it gave her a headache.

"Did they really just fall asleep while fighting?" Millers wondered out loud, moving closer to the Maiden's observation window to examine the pink mutant detachedly as if he were a mere object.

Aegis nodded. "Yep. Don't know why. Something feels wrong about all of this." It had been far too easy, considering all of the property damage and casualties that had ensued.

"How interesting." The scientist mused, motioning them to follow as the elevator pinged upon reaching the main subterranean station that spread out into multiple tunnels. From there they moved onto a larger rail-operated transport vehicle that took them much deeper into the maze-like underground prison.

"Sublevel Eight?" Torchbearer noted as the thick, numbered bulkheads parted ways to give them access to their final destination. "Are you geeks_ that_ worried chubbs will try to break out?"

Millers huffed at the brassy taunting. "Oh no, we're quite confident in our security and containment systems. If anything, we're being prudent, that is all."

"It's closer to the labs," The younger researcher confessed, his tone a bit too chipper considering the ominous implications. Millers shrugged nonchalantly at the disclosure.

"So yet another test subject." Dark Tide spoke up for the first time, his voice loaded with disdain. "I don't like your methods."

If the statement bothered Millers, he did not show it. Instead, he turned to face the hero, his gaze vindictive and harsh. "It feels like we've had this little talk before. Ah yes, we have. Dark Tide, it was _your_ choice to join our little endeavor. Both Aegis and Torchbearer did too, and I don't see them complaining. You signed that little contract that provided you with a small fortune and experimental support items, did you not?"

At that, the Gateway hero shifted his gaze downward. Torchbearer and Aegis remained quiet, unwilling to deal with the headaches they knew the researcher could bring.

Millers cackled triumphantly. "Thought so. Anyway, the subject relinquished his rights the moment he illegally entered the United States and dared to attack us. He demonstrated offensive abilities that drew the interest of powerful people way above me."

From that point on, they did not speak again. They moved down multiple high-security checkpoints and through a set of seemingly endless sterile-white passageways, their every step echoing throughout them. Every so often, they'd walk past a group of armed guards or researchers checking in on the prisoners.

"Aaaand ...we're here." Yellow caution lights strobed in the hallway as Millers placed his hand on a scanner, the door leading to the permanent containment room sliding open upon accepting his credentials.

Every wall in the control room was easily half a meter thick, layered between unknown steel alloys and concrete. Further inside, another set of security doors opened, this time giving access to the prisoner's final resting place. Dark Tide shuddered, claustrophobia beginning to set in.

The square room was comprised of much thicker and more resilient materials all around. It was massive, loaded with state-of-the-art consoles and power supply systems that would connect to the Iron Maiden and maintain its functionality long-term. Another visible trait was the oversized weapons attached to the ceilings on every corner, their domed surface lined with a wide array of cameras and sensors. A thick observation window sat on one side, serving as a way for scientists to interact with the prisoner without entering or endangering their lives.

Slowly but surely the Iron Maiden steered itself into the large cradle, its innards hissing as they coupled. Everyone stepped back into the secondary room as the blast-grade doors shut.

**"Iron Maiden synced with the central mainframe. Beginning diagnostics. Power supply; online. Sensor arrays; online. Life support systems; active. Countermeasures; online. Caution-unable to acquire baseline bio-signs."** A bland computerized voice announced.

"Huh, that's odd," Millers muttered, eyeing the error report. "No matter, probably a stupid glitch. Go get that fixed up." His assistant nodded dutifully, getting to work on the devices nearby as they lit up with lines of conflicting data and computer coding.

"Heroes!" He turned around to greet them with his trademark unpleasant and phony smile. "Everything went well, as expected. Thank you for escorting our newest acquisition. Yet another great threat to our country taken down by our mighty _Special Forces_." He mock-bowed to add insult to injury.

The man's sarcastic and jeering nuance almost made Torchbearer snap and wish she could evaporate him on the spot. _Pretentious, lying prick. _"Yeah, yeah. This was freakin' disappointing." She sighed, trying her best to ignore the man as she crossed her arms in irritation. His bullcrap wasn't her concern at the moment. She was staring intently towards the ton-plus of steel sealing the Villain away. Deep down she had hoped the pink blob would try to break out and fight back. The hype surrounding them made her itch for a good fight and it pissed her off to have such a letdown.

Dark Tide grumbled something unintelligible about questionable practices and his disdain for confined spaces before speaking up. "Okay, great. Since there's nothing left for us do, let's get the hell out of here already." He extended his left hand, willing an inky Gateway into existence out of his fingertips. He'd rather wander through the desert than deal with another flight with these people.

"You know how to reach us if we're needed," Aegis advised the two scientists, her voice calm and collected, well aware any bickering would be useless and detrimental. Torchbearer muttered a curse as her displeased and sprightly form disappeared through the portal to rant and vent somewhere else. Dark Tide followed suit after glaring daggers at Miller a final time.

"Yeah yeah, sure thing." Millers shook his head as the Shield Heroine disappeared, the portal vanishing without much fanfare. He was feeling giddy. "Don't you worry, heroes. He's going nowhere. We got special orders for this one."

He shifted his sight to leer at the Iron Maiden and the prisoner within, sneering wickedly as he spoke. "Procure all of the tools necessary, Lopez. We're going to find out what makes this one tick..."

* * *

**A/N:  
**All done! I've had this chapter done for a bit, but Against All Odds had me busy most of the time. We've been looking to buy a home, while at the same time working nonstop(and trying to do some writing in-between). Speaking of Against All Odds...I know it's taking a while, but I'm hoping the update for AAO will be worth it. I apologize for the wait. I will _not _give up on either story no matter what.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. A few events are being set into motion. 'Tis the calm before the storm...

Let's just say Buu's containment won't last long. I know not many have died yet, but that might be rectified soon. It's going to get messy, and he will finally get to meet the Legion in the next chapter. How will _that _meeting go? I can't wait to see a certain Decay user's reaction. The baddies are about to make move on the upcoming Forest Training Camp, and I gotta say, I can't wait to start working on that mess.

**Please note**: Some aspects of this story will NOT follow the original storyline or mechanics, same with anything else I write on this site. I am aware of the Quirk mess I might be getting into by following a different path/theory/idea. Things will be different, but this is a decision, not a mistake. It will be AU to a degree. We'll see how it goes.

Until next time!


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